Pretending
by puzzlepuzzle
Summary: Every person Yagami Light killed had a story to tell. And this is Misora Naomi and Raye Penber's story from the time they met leading right up to their deaths, because their meeting indirectly caused their deaths.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Misora Naomi has been pretending to be someone she accepts all her life, but she knows another person who can call her bluff without him trying very hard to. This story follows her life and his until their deaths Yagami Light causes. This is the story that was never told. This is Misora Naomi and Raye Penber's story.

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

Chapter 1

When Misora Naomi had been thirteen, she knew that she was destined to be a fighter.

She didn't know what it meant; she just knew that she would live her life trying to jump over every obstacle that came her way if she had to. Something told her that her life wasn't the charmed typed like some fortunate humans had, but in any case, she was prepared to fight.

But it wasn't as if she had never thought that way; in fact, when she had been in homeroom one hot summer's day, all her friends had been telling each other what they wanted to do when they grew up. Not by choice of course, this kind of thing could be quite personal, but since their teacher insisted on it, they had to.

And she had thought about it while the teacher made each and every one of her classmates stand up and face the blackboard while the other students swiveled behind to look at the student. Typical Japanese homeroom sessions, these kind of things always were. The thirteen-year old Misora Naomi had pretended she wasn't excited about the prospect of a future to shape and mould in her young hands, but she had been thrilled when she had realised she wanted to be a fighter.

All her life, she had been pretending to be calm and composed like the kind which never had to get riled up or become ruffled, the kind who one could joke and get along with but not the kind a person one could mess with.

Misora Naomi wanted to be the kind of person others wouldn't bother trying to hurt, because they would be led to think that no matter how much they tried to hurt Misora Naomi, she just wouldn't care. Granted, she wasn't a sad child or anything of that bitter sort of person with problems in her life, but she didn't realize that she was a very sensitive child, the sort that remembered everything and felt for others more than they felt for themselves.

No wonder then, that she wanted to try and become the sort that didn't cry easily or didn't show their feelings very often. Because most people never accepted themselves for what they were and Misora Naomi was one of them too. She would have never accepted the fact that she always wanted to take others' pain and make it her own just so they'd feel better.

Simply put, she was so afraid of being hurt by others that she wanted to try and be a cold person even thought she wasn't by nature.

When something was unfair to her and showed her injustice, she'd be hurt, but she'd keep mum about it and she wouldn't bear a grudge, but she'd never forget it either. That was how she was, but nobody knew it. Nobody yet, anyway.

The students all kept silent and gave their full attention to the speaker while the student standing spoke of their aspirations; it had been the basic from of respect long drilled into them by sheer practice and reminders.

So one by one, it was passed on to every teenager, like a wave in motion but in the form of a long snake rearing up in the classroom It was nerve-wrecking for most of them, but they did it anyway, Japanese students weren't like those she later met in the States, they were always respectful and never challenged what their teachers said.

A very popular girl in her class had stood up and spoke up, saying cheerfully, "Ah, I want to study as much as I can now, then I will try and be an ambassador for Japan, and then I can go travel everywhere which is ultimately my goal."

Everyone cheered when she said that, the teacher had instructed them to do so just previously, and besides, saying something that personal out loud in front of a whole class required some from of courage to be as truthful and sincere as Misora Naomi's classmate had been. If only she could recall the name of that girl, but try as she might, she just couldn't.

Then the shortest girl in class, Fujiwara Shizuka , Naomi never forgot her name because she was so short, stood up and said shyly, "I want to be a model and prove my height , or rather, my lack of height like most tell me, can take me to places everyone said I couldn't get to."

And then Fujiwara Shizuka sat down and blushed amidst the cheers, and the boys sitting near where Naomi applauded especially loudly and looked a little nervous. Misora Naomi had seen them teasing Fuijwara Shizuka before homeroom started, but she never stepped in to say anything. She knew Fujiwara Shizuka was going to be a fighter too; the girl fought her own battles without anyone's help.

Years later, when an eighteen-year-old Misora Naomi flipped through magazines, every single one of them was graced by an only somewhat diminutive model with a beautiful face and determined eyes Naomi recognized immediately. She didn't bother flipping to the back to see the model's name. She already knew who it was, and she admired not the breathtaking, fashionable clothes Fujiwara Shizuka modeled, but Fujiwara Shizuka herself.

"Next!" her form teacher called brightly. He hadn't liked her at first, he had complained about the fixated way she stared at the blackboard during lessons and said she asked too many questions, but she had persisted in her own ways of learning and had topped her class over and over again until her teacher had sighed resignedly and told her that she was really something.

But Misora Naomi never had to have anyone saying that to her, she never felt as if she deserved it. Her parents had taught her how to be humble and simple in her words, something she felt was correct, and so she followed their advice even though she had seen her IQ test results her parents had tried very hard to hide away in the house, lest she get swell-headed. But they needn't have bothered; Misora Naomi was far too level-headed to become arrogant.

She always tried to follow their advice, because she felt that everyone had always something to learn from each other.

Years, later when she met him, she did the same, but then she started cursing her inability to so the opposite of following instructions the way she had been trained to do from young. The person she met later ordered her to stay out of the case he was working on, and she had followed his instructions obediently, but because of that, maybe she had sent him to the gallows by allowing him to meet Yagami Light and give his name away.

And a boy stood up, his hair a little shaggy, but his eyes warm and quite friendly. Naomi knew who he was; he had helped her find her things when some unkind seniors from another class had stolen them for a trick.

Touka Hibiki never asked for anything in return, he was a child prodigy and could play the piano beautifully, but he never got too close to anyone. Misora Naomi knew he wasn't arrogant like most of them thought he was, he was just afraid of people in general, so she made an extra effort to be kind to him the way he always was to her.

"I want to be a movie-director and make action films," the boy said hesitantly, and everyone gaped in surprise, since they all thought he would have said, "I want to be a world-class concert pianist."

Most of them had forgotten that he already was one. So had she, but she pretended she didn't and continued to look like everything had been a matter of fact to her. She never knew why she always pretended to be so consistent and calm; she felt that if she didn't, something was wrong with her.

The teacher's glasses had slipped down a little, providing an unintended comical effect as he stared in great interest at the boy and his unpredictable reply and asked curiously, "Umm, could you explain why?"

And Touka Hibiki chewed his lip very thoughtfully then said wistfully, "I want to do what I like doing best, sir," and then he sat down and the class applauded and cheered again.

Misora Naomi's hands were sore from the clapping, but she persisted anyway.

Next up was Kotabo Kobatou, and she never forgot his name either. They always made a joke about the way his name sounded like a tongue-twister, and he was always ashamed about it but had to force a laugh and joke along with the rest, although Naomi could see his jaw was tense and his fists were curled up in his pocket.

She had gone to school early one day and heard, quite in a mandatory way, that his mother had given him his name before she died in childbirth. She had wanted to cry for him then, because she knew he hadn't been able to cry for himself or his dead mother.

Misora Naomi's mother had once caught her in her soft, warm arms, bounced her on her lap and told her very softly, "No matter how much she wants to pretend and show the world that she can be unkind, uncaring and mean, Misora Naomi is a very kind child."

And Misora Naomi had looked up at her dark-haired, dark-eyed mother who everyone said looked like her, and remained silent, never saying much of anything.

Misora Naomi never did.

But then she never understood why her mother had done that, because giving her mother flowers everyday that she picked up from the roadside when she walked home from cram school was something she enjoyed doing and did for her mother with her own free will.

Kotabo Kobatou blushed as he tried to avert his eyes from everyone, but they somehow landed wildly and rested on Naomi's deep, black ones and she smiled briefly to encourage him. She wondered for a second if her feelings had been conveyed, but then when he opened his mouth to speak again, she knew she was successful.

In a sudden surge of confidence, Kobatou shouted eagerly, "I want to be the best chef in the world and make everybody happy with the food I cook!"

And then she cheered very loudly and applauded along with the rest.

It went on and on, and she wasn't prepared at all because she had been so lost in her thoughts.

Then she heard the teacher calling her name and abruptly came back to her current situation with a little jolt, realizing that he had been calling her name for a little while now.

"Sorry sir," she said hastily, "When I grow up, I want to be a fighter."

Then she realised how random and irrelevant it sounded even to her own ears, but as the students asked, "As in action star? Or athlete, you know those super karate black-belt kinds that jump two-meters in the air?"

There were scatterings of laughter and giggles at how ridiculous that sounded, but she ignored it all.

She looked at the teacher and he was nodding furiously with the rest, saying mildly, "Why don't you elaborate, Misora?"

And Misora Naomi was at a loss for words, but she forced herself to be calm, not blabber and ramble away like she did sometimes, then she took in a deep breath and plunged on anyway.

"Not those kinds, I want to fight against injustice."

"Ah, a policewoman then," the teacher concluded wisely, and the whole class murmured in agreement, thinking they had understood what she meant. They didn't, but then she couldn't understand what she had said either, because she didn't know what she had meant or what she had tried to say at that time either.

So she was forced to bow like the rest of them, sit down, and hear the applause go on for a little while more until the boy in front of her who always took her eraser without asking her permission first stood up and said with a show of bravado, "I want to be a banker!"

She didn't hear what he said after that, she just sat with one pale hand placed carefully under her finely-chiseled chin, her long, lustrous dark hair neatly bundled into a pony tail and looped through, her deep, wistful black eyes staring into space. People often said those were her best features, but she didn't know that. After all, from where she came, everyone else had dark eyes and equally dark hair.

So if anybody gazed at the mild, meek-looking girl with immaculate manners and a soft voice, they would have never guessed someone in the world held the key to transforming her into something quite different from what she was now. They didn't know she had a steel core in her, and nobody knew yet that her fight had yet to begin.

But she knew she would fight in her own way.

So Misora Naomi continued to live the way she had done her whole life, but her parents sent her abroad to America after the teachers told them Japan could offer no more to meet her potential and wits. She was only fourteen then.

And rarely anyone called her Misora like everyone did where she originally came from, and those in her hometown did, since calling her by the surname was a form of respect and privacy if they didn't know her that well.

No doubt then that most of her classmates addressed her regularly by her surname and not 'Naomi', because nobody, even her friends, knew her very well. They saw only what she showed to them, and even then, it was pretence.

But everyone where she lived now called her Naomi, by her first name, although she didn't feel that she was close to or respected by them. Of course, her superiors and those in a class above her ordered her about by her surname, but then they did that to everyone working for them too.

Because in America, a typical name would consist of their first names then it was followed by their surnames. But in Japan, their names always started with their surnames first, and people called each other by their surnames if they didn't know each other very well.

So she had been forced to rearrange the order of her name when she introduced herself so people would call her Misora since her name was Naomi Misora, like 'Maria Blake' and not 'Blake Maria' now. She pretended that she didn't mind everybody calling her 'Naomi', but in reality, she didn't want anyone except her parents to call her Naomi. They hadn't any right to. But she didn't say anything; she just looked at them silently with her dark eyes and those who met her felt strangely protective of her.

She lived with a distant relative there who had no children but treated her like Naomi Misora was her own, and Naomi Misora was always grateful to her. But her parents lived in Japan still, they couldn't forfeit their jobs and everything they had worked so hard and built up over the years, and she couldn't begrudge them that in the end.

Even when Naomi Misora cried herself to sleep during the long winters, she couldn't bring herself to wish they were there in case they really came for her. So she slept and cried with a pillow stuffed right to her face so nobody would know she was a weakling inside.

Naomi Misora didn't want anyone to know she was pretending to be strong.

She regularly skipped grades faster than anyone and so when she was only sixteen, she graduated from the top university in California as the valedictorian with first-class honors, and not quite knowing what to do with everything she had obtained so far, she signed on to be a part of the police force, cursing the irony of everything.

Her parents were fine with her training to being a policewoman, but they told her through one of those rare long-distance phone calls, to 'go find something less dangerous.' She kept their words at the back of her mind, the way she had always done when she had been in Japan.

Then Naomi Misora considered dropping the training the force was currently giving her and becoming an accountant or something more mundane like that, since her Mathematical degrees had been enough to put her in a college as a professor by the time she was fourteen.

But slowly, she began to develop a liking for work in the force, and she discovered her analytical and reasoning skills went further than what she had ever imagined, even though most of her work was in an office itself. She wasn't actually a detective by training, she was more the kind which sat in the office and read through files and documents and things like that, so it really wasn't quite what she would have deemed as 'dangerous'.

But she always remembered that her parents had told her to 'go find something less dangerous' than her current job. She was sixteen and probably had a lot to live for, but looking back, she had actually been bored. Naomi Misora never thought she would be bored, her quick, bright mind always made the most mundane things seem interesting, but in retrospect she had been bored.

She had wanted to follow her parent's advice and leave the force, although she was welcomed and respected even though she was only sixteen at that time, but in the end, she went exactly against her parents' wishes and found something not less dangerous, but a few times more dangerous by itself.

Naomi Misora started pretending she didn't know it was dangerous when she met him, but she knew it was all a pretense from the start. He was a very dangerous person where she was concerned, simply because he could tell she was pretending when the rest of the world couldn't.

Because one day, the sixteen -year old Misora Naomi met a person she later knew as Raye Penber.

And she knew he was dangerous from the start and should have listened to her parents' advice, but she didn't, and much later, she did become a fighter like she wanted to when she was thirteen.

And she fought for herself and for him later, even though she hadn't known it was going to be futile because she had made a single, crushing mistake of revealing her name to someone called Yagami Light.

Because years later, she fought, and she fought for his memory and for her life.

Author's notes:

Alright, first chapter up, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it.

I thought I'd start on this because Death note 2's out as a movie where I live, and I watched Death note 1 on You-tube.

I would appeal to everyone to picture the anime/manga version of Naomi Misora and Raye Penber when they read Pretending, since the movie's version seriously kills their characters with the rather flat acting and bad looks. Sheesh, why'd they choose actors like that for the both of them?

I know that is rather shallow, since anime/manga tends to beautify every single character, but in chapters to come, picturing picture-perfect people are for better reading, save the low-lifers and villains (except for Yagami Light, of course that's understood). R&R& Recommend please!

And for those still wondering what Pretending is about, it's a story from Naomi Misora's perspective from her early life to her death when Light sends her to her death. Don't continue if you don't want to relive the painful scene of her walking to her death.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 2

She had been only sixteen when she met Raye Penber, but at that time, she had been covering the desk-officer's job since the man had to rush to the hospital, apparently his wife was in labor.

Naomi Misora had hastily congratulated him and he had grinned, his dark-circled eyes quite bright suddenly, and had grabbed his coat and scurried away.

So she sat there looking though her files while covering his job, and since nobody was there to request to see any officer, she took out some Mathematic equation worksheets she found lying by the side.

It belonged to an officer's daughter; apparently he had accidentally brought it to work since it was slotted into his file, so his daughter was probably quite the careless sort.

Those equations were a fragment of her past now, she hadn't touched anything to do with that sort of thing since she had been twelve or so, but she thought she'd just try them and see where the officer's child had gone wrong in the sums anyway.

Quite lost in her own world, she took out a pencil and some rough paper and began copying down the questions, her fringe covering her eyes and making her look younger than most thought she was. Barely anyone remembered that she was only sixteen, seventeen at most, because she carried herself the way a grown-up would.

Naomi Misora's eyes were very, very dark, and sometimes a person couldn't see what see was thinking because her eyes revealed nothing at all. Her eyes were very wise in that sense too, and that made people who didn't know her think she was older than she actually was.

But if someone had looked at her face carefully, and if she chose to allow that, they would see that her youth was written everywhere. Her skin was very fair because she couldn't go out into the sun too much since she had sensitive skin, and her mouth had pink lips like a rosebud which was the main giveaway that she was very young.

So she solved problem after problem, and it all came back very easily to her, and she was so caught up in those quadratic and trigonometry equations that she didn't notice someone standing in front of her and taping his fingers on the desk to get her attention.

When she finally realised somebody was standing in front of her, she looked up, a little startled and wanted to say, "Sorry, I didn't notice you," but the first thing that flew out of her lips like an arrow was a brisk, "Shift cosecant X to left hand side and make it a reciprocal."

Then the person in front of her stared in apparent surprise and started to chuckle.

Naomi looked at him, sizing him up immediately and saw that the stranger had very dark hair like her own and he had fair skin like hers too.

Their coloring was so similar she was a little disturbed for a split-second, but then she looked carefully and saw he wasn't quite pure Asian like her. His nose was too straight and well-placed in a very noble arch to be ever mistaken as anything other than a Caucasian's feature. And his skin was as fair as white marble, perhaps fairer than hers even though she was almost like a vampire. She had kept out of the sun since she had been a child since her skin was sensitive to the rays and could break out into an angry itch and rash if she stayed too long in the sun.

The last thing that made it clear he was probably of mixed ethnicity was his eyes. They were a very clear, light grey flecked with blue, and Naomi Misora knew they belonged to the Caucasian side of this ethnicity. Nobody from where she came from had eyes like that, it simply wasn't in their gene pool.

He saw her staring at him and laughed, opening his smiling mouth to reveal a nice set of white teeth that made her think of toothpaste advertisements. Maybe he would be hired by talent-scouts soon.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while, Miss," he said crisply with a hint of the accent she had never really quite acquired even though she had spent a considerable time in the States. She never spoke much anyway, so it didn't matter.

"Sorry about that," she apologized softly as she shook her long hair behind her shoulders and swept her fringe to the side. She usually tied up her long mane of black hair, but she liked it down when she was thinking hard, it was a sort of curtain around her that made her feel secure.

She looked up again and noticed he was staring a little too much at her for it to seem necessary, and she pretended not to notice although she fidgeted a little.

"Umm," he continued quickly as she forced herself to stare back unflinchingly, "I wanted to call you by your name to get your attention, but I figured out your name wasn't Tim Harris."

"Oh no," she replied softly, taking note of his keen, sharp eyes even though he was obviously very young, "That's my co-worker, he's left for some urgent business so I came here to cover him, but obviously I haven't been doing a very good job."

The stranger laughed again, and she thought what a nice laugh it was. Naomi Misora very rarely laughed, she always thought that he laugh sounded queer and very hollow, so she tried to contain most of her laughter into a smile half the time.

Naomi Misora didn't know that her colleagues were regularly trying to make her laugh as a bet to see who could do it first, or she might have allowed herself to laugh once so they'd finish the bet instead of waiting week after week to see who could achieve the seemingly-impossible.

"Trigonometry, I miss that," he said wistfully, setting his briefcase up on the desk, quite weary of holding onto it.

"So do I," she said quietly, feeling strangely at ease with him even though she barely knew him at all, "I haven't done those for a long time too."

"But that's because you're a working adult now," he interjected almost as if to clear his sudden doubts, curiously noticing, perhaps for the first time, that she might have looked a little too young to be in the police force.

And Naomi Misora chose to tilt her face up to him so she was looking straight as his remarkably handsome one so he saw that she was very, very young. She didn't do that normally, she chose to let herself be seen as an adult, but she wanted to tell him she was a child for some reason. She had lost her childhood a long time ago, but she wanted to try and see what it felt like again.

Her own pair of dark, almost pure black eyes gazed at a stunning gray pair in a deadly lock and Naomi Misora felt like she had grasped onto something she couldn't quite recognize and name and for one of the rare times in her life, she was disconcerted.

She had pretended almost her whole life that she didn't mind losing her childhood so early, but then she knew he saw right through her, stranger or not. Now she regretted letting him see she was very young, maybe he'd scorn her.

"W-wait, you're supposed to be in school, right?" he said, startled when it clicked that she was almost still a child. He stared at her, thinking how remarkable someone like her was so young but so formidable already, then he remembered his situation as probably the same as hers and had to crush a sigh.

"So should you," she retorted a little brusquely. Was he scorning her now?

"Ah, I graduated from a university abroad two years ago," he said quickly like a child that wanted to defend himself when he was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"So did I," she said emotionlessly, suddenly wishing that he would just state his business and let her direct him to the person and then he'd leave her alone.

"I didn't think there'd be someone my age working already," he said amusedly, and she caught a twinkle in his grey eyes, despising him for being able to make her feel like laughing. His eye color was remarkable, really, they were light grey, flecked with thin specks of blue here and there, and she was sure the satiny- grey color could darken to a storm if he was in a rage. 'Where'd he get eyes so familiar to her like that?' she wondered.

"There aren't many of us freaks and test-tube offspring actually," she said coolly, thinking of what she had heard the sophomores in high school call her behind her back.

She hadn't forgiven them although she pretended not to hear and be upset that they disliked her for being more intelligent and not because she had some bad ways or something that made them dislike her for that reason itself. But she didn't really bear the grudge of make it a point to be nasty to them in return, she always kept her silence.

She pretended day in day out that she was an emotionless machine, and she wanted to do it for as long as she lived now.

"So you've been called that too," he said calmly and his smile flickered a little and dimmed, and then Naomi felt sorry that she had been unkind to a stranger she had never seen before and had no reason to be rude to.

"Sorry," she begun hesitantly, but he smiled at her and she felt something hard and icy melt away like the frost as she gazed up at him.

A second later, he carefully picked up the papers she had been playing with and looked carefully at them, his brow furrowed a little as he concentrated.

She tried not to notice how handsome he was and his gait and the flawless posture he had, because she believed ogling was not for girls like her. So she remained silent while he flipped through.

Then wanting to make it up to the stranger for being rude earlier on, she reached forward and eagerly offered him more worksheets to flip through. She pretended again, not to care that he was smiling right at her in a mischievous sort of grin that she liked very immensely. He was probably trying to turn the charm, he used on every girl, she decided, and she made up her mind to try and dislike him.

"We may well be helping the child you took this from fail her next test because we've done all her homework for her, and then she won't be getting much practice you know," he stated seriously, but she saw the familiar twinkle in his eyes and smiled briefly as if to pose a challenge at him.

"I have the same worksheet here," she said mildly, "and I'm frankly bored out of my mind. Want to have a challenge?"

He hauled a chair nearby in front of her desk, shrugging off his trench coat, and she admired his sleek profile then caught herself ogling again and wanted to curse loudly.

"I warn you miss," he said playfully, "I'm good at this stuff."

"So am I," she replied, then she carelessly tossed a pen over which he seemed to pluck out of the air like magic, and she realised that his reflexes were probably three times better than hers.

It was a habit to evaluate people Naomi Misora met, not a very nice habit, of course, but it was inevitable for her. If she didn't, she'd feel a little insecure, and in any case, the stranger who seemed about her age, but only if you looked very closely, was making her feel very insecure there and then.

"On the count of three," he said very seriously, "One, two, three!"

And her eyes went crazy in her sockets, flying and scanning over the twenty questions printed on the worksheet, and her fingers were moving faster than she had ever made them work before, all because she knew he wasn't boasting when he said he was good. She wanted to beat him hands down, and she'd do anything to win and feel a little less insecure.

She gazed up now and then to look at him, scribbling away furiously like her, and he looked up occasionally too to check her pace. They did this without looking at each other's worksheets, something told Naomi that they knew they were at the exact same question and at roughly the same pace, because he paused where she did to read the question, they started at the exact time, and they flipped over both simultaneously.

But then Naomi got stuck on the second- last question, a proving one, and then she realised she had made a mistake in the earlier step and had to retrace her working to find it. She frowned in frustration, knowing she would be more likely to lose to him that way, and then she heard him flip over to the next question and realised she was already behind by far.

So she quickly finished up on the question by locating the error she had made earlier, and she moved on the next remaining one so she might even out the pace once more.

And then she suddenly realised that the stranger was spinning his pencil round and round on his long slim, fingers and his hand was on his forehead, and she realised with a start that he was stuck on a question she hadn't attempted yet. That meant he would finish the last one before her if she didn't hasten her pace.

Wanting to cheer but feeling a little sorry for him too, she finished off the one she was currently doing and moved to the last question. Then she finished that one in no time at all, and as she was about to put down her pen and shout "Finished!", yes, shout, although she hadn't done that much before, he flipped his pen down and hollered, "Finished!"

Naomi cried out in surprise, her usually mellow voice put a few notched higher in her shock at being beaten.

"But you haven't done the last question yet!" she cried accusingly at him, knowing that he had been stuck on the second last one.

"Ah, but I have!" he said blissfully, and then he flipped over his page to reveal a perfect answer and working which she zoomed through and realised that he had used a shortcut she hadn't thought of doing.

"But I would have noticed if you were ahead of me by one question," she said shakily, not quite managing to keep the bewilderment out of her voice.

"I knew you were on my tail so I flipped to the last question and did that one first so you would think you were catching up," the stranger said mildly, "Since the last question was a little tough, I spent a longer time doing that one and so you thought I had a problem with that one and hence you thought you finished first when I started twirling my pen and waiting for you to finish up."

She wanted to scream in rage because he had the cheek to wait for her to be near the finishing point, and then in the nick of time, cried out that he had first. Damn him.

They exchanged papers and marked each other's work, and both of them got full marks even though he had finished first.

And she looked at him and felt very sore that she had lost, and she wanted to slap him just so he would look less calm and composed.

"I despise you," she said very suddenly, quite meaning it.

His eyes widened for a spilt-second and she saw that he was hurt, but he recovered instantaneously and his eyes were cold and like grey ice-shards when he said hatefully, "Sore loser."

Naomi Misora glared at him poisonously and so did he. She would have said something as a comeback if she could, had her superior not abruptly walked though the doors of the department.

Then her superior was rushing in and the stranger was standing up very swiftly and saying, "Sir, I have been waiting for you."

Her superior was about to start talking to the stranger, but then he glanced at her in surprise, noticing she wasn't meant to be there, but Naomi Misora jumped in and said quickly, "Harris went to the hospital, his wife's in labor."

Then she watched the superior nod and smile at her, saying, "Good work," and she was reminded that he was an American who had supposedly a Chinese wife, and he obviously had some form of Japanese ancestry too or had Japanese relatives then.

He must have picked up their ways of working etiquette from them, since he never called her 'Naomi', like the way he addressed her co-workers by their first names, but addressed her as 'Misora' all the time, an obvious form of respect for her background, and then she abruptly remembered that the stranger she had just been about to murder obviously had some Asian blood too.

She looked up to see her superior leading the him away and she would have ignored them after that if she hadn't glanced over in the nick of time to see her superior clap his hand on the tall, lithe stranger's back and say, "Sorry you had to wait such a long time for me, son, but I'm glad Misora over there was talking to you so you wouldn't be so bored waiting. You must forgive your father for being so busy all the time."

As they walked into the elevator, Naomi Misora saw the door from both sides of the lift closing in, but just before they blocked out his handsome face completely, she saw his lips curl into a dreadful smirk as the lift door block them from sight completely.

Then she remembered that her superior had grey eyes she had thought were very lovely when she had seen them first too, and she wanted to throw up all over herself, nauseated for some reason at her first encounter with her superior's son.

By the time the word had gotten around that the superior's son was helping his father solve cases after returning to the States, Naomi Misora had wanted to slit her wrists and just die so she would be spared the embarrassment there and then.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 3

The next time she saw him was a week after their first encounter.

She had pretended she hadn't minded meeting her superior's son who turned eighteen while she was sixteen although she knew he was technically only one year older than her. Her birthday was so late in the year that it automatically made her a year later than most her age, and nobody had celebrated her birthday except her parents, since school usually ended by then.

According to the rumors she had heard and the idle talk, the superior's son, whatever his sodding name was, was a fine young man of eighteen years old, so he must have an early birthday then.

Naomi Misora knew for a fact that half the female workers were talking about her superior's son, he was a bright boy, obviously, since he graduated from a university in England at fifteen, and then he was handsome too, and he was probably out there breaking some poor girl's heart already.

So she had pretended she didn't think of his keen, watchful gaze and his dark hair that looked very similar to hers, or the way he had been almost a child when they had challenged each other and sized each other up.

And she pretended she couldn't care less what he thought of her, even though her superior could have found out that she had been rude to his son and fired her or something like that, especially since she was supposed to be offering good service on Harris' behalf that day when she had unluckily met her superior's son and a man who was a match for the sixteen-year old Naomi Misora.

Naomi pretended she didn't remember his handsome face, and she might have really forgotten about it if he hadn't turned up again a week later after they had first met. By another stroke of irony, she was covering Harris who would be gone for a month to take care of his wife.

She never touched any sums again, but one day, when she had been jotting down some notes, she sensed that there was somebody staring at her and snapped her head up, her long hair swishing behind her back, to look up at a pair of dark eyes.

"Remember me?" he said, and she caught the wary note in his otherwise impassive voice.

"No," she stated sharply, "State your name, business, designation."

"Alright," he said coolly, although his eyes were flashing fire, "I'm the son of your superior, the head of the department, my name's Elliot Turner, and obviously, I'm here to see my father."

"Fine" she said emotionlessly, hating how attractive he was, "I will send a message to his personal assistant immediately, please wait in the lounge over there."

Then she passed him the logbook and watched as he signed his name inside it, and she couldn't help noting how carefully he signed his name in full letters.

And she could have continued pretending he wasn't around even though she had already sent the message, but he didn't let her continue the pretense and pulled the same chair he had used a week ago in front of her desk, and then he settled comfortably into it.

"Want to challenge again?" he said, his face an emotionless mask and his eyes unreadable.

If she said no, she'd be a sore loser, but then if she said yes, then it would be awkward knowing that she was being wrapped around his finger. Either way, she was trapped.

"No," she said finally, "but, I'm sorry for being that way the last time you were here."

He looked carefully at her and saw that her pale cheeks were a little pink, and the he grinned boyishly and said, "You don't like to lose, do you?"

Naomi shook her head and bit her lip, feeling a little stupid for getting herself wrapped around his finger anyway, but then he laughed and she recognized his warm laughter and knew he had called her bluff.

"Misora, I don't like to lose either," he said calmly.

"But you won the last challenge already," she said desperately, hoping he wouldn't force her to play the Rubik's cube with him, since she was very aware that his father would only be free to see him in an hour's time. Oh boy, she was a genius at Mathematics, but she was terrible only at Rubik's cube, she'd lose and he'd think that she was a dumb secretary or something. But what were the odds of him carrying a toy like that around anyway?

"I did, didn't I?" he replied raising his eyebrows, "So I get to dictate you for a bit, Misora."

"Alright," she said resignedly, realizing straightaway that the boy was quite stubborn, "What do you want to play?"

And Naomi realised that the word 'play' was quite foreign to her lips, nobody asked her to play with them, and she never played anyway, she just sat around in her free, almost non-existent spare time to stare into space. She never played or anything like that.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, his lips quirking into something she thought was a smile but realised it could have been a smirk too. His light grey eyes were filled with a dancing merriment she saw and wanted to gouge out of his eyes so she would find it easier to pretend she wasn't pleased her wanted to know about her.

"There's nothing much to tell, really," she began hesitantly, not wanting to reveal anything at all, but then he looked her straight in the eye and said in flawless Japanese, "I want to know, so you best start talking. I know my father will be kept an hour or so, and we've got plenty of time, you might as well start now."

"You can speak Japanese?" she gaped dumbly.

His eyes twinkled and he nodded, saying rapidly, "My dad's an American and my mum's Chinese, but I learnt Japanese from some relatives a long time ago. I'm out of practice though; I speak English and Chinese better than Japanese I think."

She mutely stared at him and said, "So obviously my surname's a giveaway, isn't it? I was born in Japan, I came over when I was fourteen to study in the university, and then I joined the police force."

"Why?" he enquired, his eyes soft and his gaze watchful again. She wanted to say, "None of your business you stupid spoilt brat," but then she thought that being polite was a better way to get ahead and said hastily, "I just wanted to. Anyway, enough about me, say something about yourself now, or it isn't a fair exchange."

"Alright," he said cautiously, "I'm Elliot Turner like you already know," but he got no sooner because she stared hard at him and cut in sharply, "You're lying."

"What?" he said surprised, "No I'm not."

"Yes you are," she said coldly, "You've never used that name before."

"Prove it," he demanded, twisting slightly in his chair he had settled right in front of her.

"First, you came into the office and asked to see your father, and then you gave your name even though you already told me you were the superior's son.

If you had used your real name, you would have given it first as a basic instinct when someone asked for your name first like I did, and then you wouldn't have bothered signing your name in full when I passed you the logbook.

If Elliot Turner had been your real name, you wouldn't have signed it so carefully, would you? You would have probably just scribbled an initial or something faster and more convenient rather than writing out every letter of Elliot Turner as if you were trying to prove that your name was really Elliot Turner."

And Naomi leaned back and looked at him emotionlessly, and then he recovered from the shock of being found out and hissed, "Alright, you got me there, now lower your volume so the others don't find out."

She pretended she wasn't interested in what he had to say and asked in a bored manner, "Is this some kind of game?"

"No, damn you, it isn't," he whispered angrily, "I just got by codename three days ago, don't make me have to change it like that."

Ignoring his barb, she averted her eyes from him and said coolly, "Why'd you need one anyway? Or don't tell me, I may be safer not knowing it if it's such a secret for you to keep."

For a minute, the silence was terribly volatile. Then his eyes darkened into a terrible storm although he showed no outward expression at all. They weren't the satiny, light grey color any longer, they were like clouds waiting to release the pent up frustration from the sky beyond.

"Misora," he said coldly, "Don't push it."

Then he stood up, and she was frightened because he was much taller than her without him having to stand up in the first place, although she kept the mask on and pretend not to care that she had messed up their meeting again. She hoped she didn't look ruffled.

"What is it about me that is making us not get along like normal civilized folks?" he said suddenly, glaring at her like she had done a few seconds ago.

"Maybe the fact that you think your pretty-boy face and smarts make every female some kind of girlfriend to keep around," she said in a-matter-of-fact voice, knowing that the office workers were swooning over an eighteen year old even though they were married or were already with children.

'Elliot Turner' gaped at her and his eyes widened so much that she could see he was probably about as immature as she had realised she was in the last couple of days.

"No I do not!' he cried angrily.

"Oh yes you do!" she shot back equally furiously, then she tossed her hair which had come lose and was hanging over her shoulders like long, black drapes. She ignored the fact that he was staring at her flip her hair like he had discovered a new element to put in the Periodic table and she sneered at him.

Coming out of his reverie, he retorted, "No!"

"Yes!" she insisted, not remembering that she was supposed to pretend that she was the girl that didn't lose it at any point of her life.

"No!"

And quite forgetting his Japanese was as good as hers, she used some choice words to curse at him, and then when he had recovered sufficiently, he cursed back at her in a dazzling mixture of both Japanese and Chinese and ended it explosively with the good old "Damn you!"

"That's enough!" she hissed, sliding her emotionless mask back on, "You're a fakey alright, you!"

"Fine," he said in a terrible rage, his eyes flashing "If it makes you happy at all, my real name's Raye Penber, you right shrew!"

Then he stormed off, his black hair whipping around his angry, passionate face, and she sat there, wondering whether to laugh or cry for losing her heart so quickly to someone like Raye Penber by the second time she met him.

* * *

Author's notes: Alright, in case anyone was wondering how Pretending would end up, it's going to be a pretty morbid one, since we all know Naomi Misora and Raye Penber die eventually. I just wanted to do a story concerning both of them even though they appeared for barely anything, but it's a good indication that the people Yagami Light killed had their own story to tell. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 4

When she met Raye Penber again, she hadn't been in the office at all, so it must have been fate that they met again.

She hadn't been wearing her uniform and sitting behind a desk sifting through dozens of files, but she had been wearing a comfortable blouse and skirt, her hair loose around her shoulders and sifting lightly in the morning breeze.

Of course she had put on her customary black boots, she was never secure without those shoes, and it had been very difficult getting boots that fit her tiny feet in a place like America where the general populace had feet-sizes like small boats. So she seized every opportunity she had to wear the boots she had spent a long time trying to hunt for.

Instead of working, she had been enjoying her half-day leave and wandering around in the town centre, browsing through the fruits and vegetables laid out on display in an amazing array of variety and colors, then when she had made up her mind and reached out for a basket of apples, she saw a pale, marble-colored hand with long, graceful fingers reach out at the same time and hoist it up in a firm grip before she could do the same.

"You!" she cried angrily at the tall person who was sneering down at her.

"Me." he said grimly, and then he swiftly passed some money to the stall-holder who giggled and carefully put the apples he had stolen from her into a tall brown paper bag.

She could not fathom why the young receptionist had talked about him with such a look of awe on her face and had spoken about him like he was some kind of prince charming with the stupid white horse and shining amour and the whole works.

According to the things she had heard the girls in the office saying, her superior's son was very young when her superior's Chinese wife had died from cancer and he had sent his son to England. Then the son had graduated from the best university in England at the top of his form and then he'd came back to America and helped his dad a bit here and there and was a familiar face although they didn't dare ask for his name, just in case they were accused of being cradle-snatchers. Nobody offered it either.

He may have looked the part of Prince Charming to all of them with his extremely handsome, chiseled face with his killer cheekbones and fair skin, coupled with his dark hair, obviously from his mother that contrasted beautifully against his skin and complimented his lithe frame very well.Oh, she knew how everyone was talking about his grey eyes, and she was thinking indignantly that nobody raved about her superior's own grey eyes that he had given his son. Crazy, the whole bunch of them were.

But his son asPrince Charming? That she could understand, she thought that he looked like one too, but she hadn't bothered joining in the conversation and discussing how they'd wish their boyfriends and husbands looked like him and had his intelligence too. Anyway, she didn't have anyone to compare him with, and even if she did,she wouldn't bother because she didn't give a damn. He may have looked like Prince Charming alright, but he obviously wasn't, and Naomi wondered if she was the only one who could see that.

"I wanted those first!" she said to the stall-holder hurriedly, thinking that being another girl, the protective sisterhood-thingy where one-girl-stood-up-for-another-when-threatened by-males instinct would kick in and the stall-holder would fight for her.

But she was terribly wrong, the stall-holder, unfortunately, was more female than protective-sister, and she wasn't blind to his looks and felt a need to respond to those more than the universal females' sisterly-instinct, and that meant Naomi's battle was over as soon as it had started.

"Ah, but the gentlemen," the girl winked at Raye Penber who smiled back very winsomely and Naomi wanted to slap him, "got those first."

And the stall-holder proceeded to simper and bat her eye lashes at him, but he was already turning to Naomi while he carelessly reached for the bag of apples.

"That's right," he said triumphantly, more to Naomi than the stallholder who was admittedly quite pretty and fresh too, "These are mine."

And he collected his change and marched off very jauntily while a row of shop-keepers, all female, damn it, stared longingly at him and sighed. Now she wanted to slap them stupid too, and she had to force herself to calm down and pretend she wasn't downright pissed.

Naomi Misora never swore before or used any bad words because she had been taught to be polite and courteous, if not impersonal, at all times. But meeting him for the first time had opened up something and transformed her into what she now feared she seemed to accept and like immensely.

Naomi was a very calm and collected person by nature, she didn't lose her temper very often and kept to herself, never saying more than what she had too. But this Raye-sodding-Penber kept getting on her nerves, and she wanted to pretend she didn't give a hoot, but in reality, she did.

So she rushed after him, her boots splashing though the puddles of water that had been left there by the rain yesterday night and he glanced back at her without turning his head entirely, and she thought how the office girls might squeal with delight at his remarkable side profile.

He looked ready to be in a catalogue or something like that., maybe she'd try and find Fujiwara Shizuka's name and introduce them then they could have minions of terribly good-looking children running around, but then he was a little too tall, maybe she'd check out how tall her former classmate really was now.

Then he interrupted her random thoughts by stopping completely in his tracks, and then he proceeded to turn around and ask incredibly coolly, "Why are you following me?"

She was stumped, because actually, she had no business following him, and she couldn't help hanging her head, feeling beaten and saying a bit miserably, "My home's this way, I can't help going the same way as you do. But I'm reaching there now, and alright, I'll just go and-,"

But then he closed the distance between them, smiled very startlingly at her and pushed something into her hands, and she looked at it and saw it was the paper bag filled to the brim with the best apples of the lot that he had taken off with.

"You're giving these to me?" she said in confusion.

He grimaced and nodded, and she realised, not for the first time, how very young he was, and then she realised too that she hadn't been as mature as she thought she was.

They were like children, always yapping at each other like puppies whenever they came into contact. She wasn't so sure why he always made her stop her pretence that she was quite stoic and that she didn't wear her heart on her sleeve like everyone else, but suddenly, she didn't quite mind as much as she thought she would. Damn him again for that.

"I'm uh-sorry for being so impolite the other day," he said a little awkwardly, hanging his head slightly so the black hair swept into his eyes. Another opportune catalogue-glossy-photograph moment, she thought dryly.

"No matter, it was my fault too," she said hastily and suddenly they were walking side by side and it was like they had been best friends their whole lives.

"Look," he began hesitantly," I didn't mean to call you a shrew and everything."

"And I didn't mean to call you a big uh ," she caught herself in time, "Y-you understood what I said in Japanese, every word of it, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he said mirthlessly, "Bastard and shithead and big prick and crapass and all of that."

She didn't know how to continue since he was obviously leaving out the more serious of the names and insults she had thrown at him, so she remained silent and passed him an apple which he took and had a bite of, and then she helped herself to one and chewed on a mouthful of fruit.

"So is the black blood cleared?" he continued, and she looked up and saw something like hope in his eyes. It made him suddenly like a puppy she wanted to squeal at very uncharacteristically and cuddle.

"Yes," she said with some uncertainty, "And I hope I didn't get you into too much trouble with the codename and everything."

"No" he said seriously, "I was accepted into the FBI just recently, they can afford to change my name as many times as they like."

"FBI?" she gasped, "But y-you're seventeen! And besides, you're not supposed to tell me that!"

"Eighteen," he reminded her, "I'm legal, and I've gotten the qualifications a long time ago. You know America's style and everything. Moreover, I'm training to try and pass the rounds, so I'm not officially there yet."

"Right," she muttered, "And I'm not legal because I'm underage."

"I thought you were seventeen," he asked curiously, "My dad said you were one year you were younger than me."

Then he wanted to beat himself up for revealing that he had asked anything about her, although his father wasn't perceptive enough to realize that his son was very interested in Naomi Misora. But to be fair, he was good at hiding his enthusiasm about her too, he had carefully guarded his eyes and his face.

But she didn't seem to notice either, no light of understanding came into her dark eyes, and she shook her head and said, "I'm sixteen until the end of this year, although I'm technically one year younger than you."

"But you will join soon, I'm sure," Raye said confidently, "I've been hearing good things about you from my father, he says you're very promising and you've got a good head on your shoulders. And maybe we will be seeing each other in the same workforce before you know it."

She looked up wistfully at him with her dark, lingering eyes framed by long lashes she probably didn't know she could use to such devastating effect, and he had to try and remember how to breathe again and hope she didn't notice that his heart was thumping very fast and very furiously.

He wondered what the chances of her already having a boyfriend were, but from the way she was awkward with males like him, he was quite sure that the probability was low. All the better for him then, no other male to fight with him over her.

"Maybe what's what I should do," she said thoughtfully, considering what he had said, "I want a bit of excitement too, just sifting through files isn't quite my idea of living. Maybe I should try that."

"Precisely," he said eagerly, even though he felt like taking her into his arms and telling her he always wanted to protect her even though he had met her a grand total of three times, today's meeting included. She gazed at him with an inscrutable expression, and he knew he was being sized up.

His father had been quite right when he had told him that Misora Naomi was not the type most would go for, she was very lovely, even his jaded father had to admit that, and she was very intelligent, obviously since she had graduated so young like him, but then she was quite enigmatic and a bit stand-offish even when it came to people she was friendly with and knew quite well. Well, he liked her that way.

And he stared at her, trying not to feel like a child when he thought how lovely she was even when she was clearly so young. Naomi Misora had long black hair that looked as if she spent hours washing it everyday and beautiful dark eyes that seemed to pluck his heartbeat out and put it into hyperactive mode.

She stared unflinchingly back, quite unafraid of his superior height and heartbreakingly vulnerable suddenly, and he was more determined than ever to get close to her. She might kill him if he attempted to, but he'd die trying anyway.

But then she stopped looked up at him and said courteously, "I'm going home now, it's just beyond this road, so go ahead, Mr. Penber."

"Call me Raye," he said hastily as his fingers gripped the insides of his pockets so hard he thought it would shred.

"Oh," she said in surprise, her dark eyes widening a little. He thought she looked prettier than ever when she didn't look blank and slightly cold, but with eyes widened in surprise that showed how innocent and unaware of the ways of the world.

"I'm eighteen, not thirty," he said quickly, "I don't like people addressing me like I'm my father."

She grinned suddenly, and he saw that it was quite different from her usual impersonal if not wry smile, and he wanted to make her smile like the way she was doing now for him everyday and all the time.

That is, if he got to see her at all. Maybe he would offer to work permanently in his dad's office or he could help with the current case, even though he wasn't interested in tracking down some bank robbers. These bank robbers were with tracks so obvious one could see where they were heading without being an FBI agent, not his cup of tea really. But if he appeared more at the office, then he'd be able to catch glimpses of Misora Naomi more regularly.

"You took your mother's surname though, didn't you?" she said briefly, thinking that he might have to change his frankness and trusting nature if he stayed in the FBI for a long time. How she would loathe the time when he would look at her with guarded eyes and tell her things she knew weren't true, but that was the fate of FBI agents. They didn't lose so much privacy as much as their humanity and trust in others.

"Yes, although she changed it when she came over to America," he said would-be-causally, trying not to feel a bit pained when he thought of his mother with her dark hair.

Noticing the way his eyes clouded over even though he showed no other sign of being upset, she then started deducing that his mother had probably died already, and Misora Naomi had to look away and pretend she didn't know anything else.

So she started looking at the apples in the brown appear bag he had given to her on sheer impulse and she suddenly slipped off her jacket, spread it out, and poured out approximately half the apples into the jacket she used as a basket, then she took its four corners and tied them up so her jacket would act as a bag.

Then she pressed the rest in the brown bag to him, saying softly, "If I call you Raye, then you should call me Naomi."

Then she scurried away in her boots like a little mouse caught with cheese, so fast that he had absolutely no opportunity of asking her if he could meet her again. But he didn't need her permission anyway, even if she said flatly, "No", he'd go track her down and find her anyway. If he wasn't careful, he'd become a stalker soon, then he shook his head and laughed to himself.

And then he headed back to his flat which he had been renting for half a year now and sighed as he flopped down.

He had casually asked his father about the girl he had met when he had been waiting, and his father hadn't noticed the glint in his eyes and had replied absent-mindedly that the girl was a genius and he could see her being ready to join the FBI very soon to solve international cases. She was too good to stay in the police force where the cases they handled were of less crucial degrees and based only in America.

Similarly, Raye Penber had been a very bright child from the start. He probably got his brains from his mother and not his father, although his father was a smart individual too.

But it was his mother, her spark and beauty had been almost divine to everyone else who had met her, and she had home-schooled him entirely herself because she had known he would surpass everybody in his class and be hindered by a speed that was far too slow for him.

He never had problems interacting and mixing with others though, he would wait for the children in his neighborhood to come home from their own schools and then he'd play with them. They'd frolic while the mothers watched proudly and talked about things he didn't care about, like housework and their husbands and that sort of thing.

Also, he knew that his mother was popular with the women the way he was popular with the children even though he didn't go to their schools and was home schooled instead, since he rarely quarreled with them and had dozens of friends because of his ways and his bright personality. And similarly, his mother was always welcomed by the women in the neighborhood, although he could tell that they were slightly envious of her beauty and gentle ways.

But that was before she died when he was six, leaving him motherless. Raye couldn't remember much about her since he had been so young when she had died from cancer, but he still could recall her raven-colored hair he had inherited, and her sweet voice and the feeling of his hair being stroked while he had fallen asleep as a child.

His father had been terribly miserable when she died, he never remarried or ever bothered trying to find another person who could suit him, and Raye lost the only person who had been outwardly affectionate to him after his mother died.

Since his father was always busy with work, he had to give Raye his own set of house keys when he sent Raye to a school after that, so that the six-year old Raye wouldn't be stuck outside his own home and couldn't enter.

And he suffered terribly in the American school although he didn't tell his father he hated school, their standard of learning was awfully foreign to him and he couldn't help going at a remarkably faster pace than his friends and classmates, even finishing lessons on his own before his teachers could flip to the page he was at.

The teacher in school would discuss how Raye Penber could multiply complicated numbers in his head while his friends reached for his calculators, possibly because of the abacus training his mother had put him through, and they all knew he excelled terribly at Mathematics and sports, perhaps his father's athletic side was another thing he had inherited other than the grey eyes and fair skin.

Some would feel sorry that he started opening the door to an empty house at six to cook dinner for himself and wait for his father to come home, and some would swear that life was cruel to such a young boy, but the teachers never told Raye how much they sympathized with him, because they sensed he didn't need their pity in the least.

And his teachers had recommended him into a school in England for the gifted when he had been nearly eight, and then he had skipped a few grades in the school itself and gone into junior college when he had been eleven.

He had dealt marvelously with the older, less friendly children by simply opening his heart and winning them over with his intelligence and personality. He did that until they eventually wanted to protect the young boy with his serious grey eyes and pale, handsome face like they would for their own younger brothers and sisters.

In fact he had gone to the rescue of a fifteen year old girl when she had been threatened and then attacked by bullies, and the twelve year old Raye had beaten them up senseless when they turned on him, and his teachers had marveled at his determination and his incredible willpower. Of course, he still was made to serve detention, but at least the bully got twice the amount too.

By the time Raye was sixteen, he had finished his university education and had came home and started looking for a job that suited and adhered to his need for action and excitement.

He had started off by working here and there in some minor cases in his father's office, but he wanted more in the end. Raye's father had not recommended him to the FBI, but he had applied anyway and got in entirely by himself and his own efforts, and he had been thrilled to learn he would learn the ways of an agent.

And when he had wanted to tell his father the good news, he had met Misora Naomi and known instantly that she was probably more than a match for him with her calm, cold demeanor but he knew she had a fiery spirit she tried to pretend she didn't have.

He had been desperate to find out what her name was, but all there had been was a random tag on the desk, 'Tim Harris', and Raye Penber wasn't enough of an idiot to address her as Tim.

So he had tapped his fingers to get her attention, and when he finally did, he had been enamored by her completely even though she hadn't tried to be charming to him like the other girls he had met all his life, and although he had tried to be suave with her, he had ended up arguing with her and trying to defeat her, an aggressive side of him he didn't even show when he played sports.

It was quite amazing how competitive a seemingly mild girl like her could be, and he actually had the cheek to hope that she was like that only for people who she deemed as worthy, so that he'd feel a bit more special than all the men who probably hit on her everyday.

Later, he had asked his father who he evaluated as the most outstanding newcomer in the force, quite knowing that there were only a few at that time and out of all the names he could possibly obtain, the likely hood of having more than one Japanese name was very low. So he knew Misora Naomi was a bright girl although she had appeared quite harmless and mild at first.

Raye Penber wasn't a complete fool though; he could see Misora Naomi's drive a mile away even when she appeared so emotionless half the time. By the time she had finally noticed he had been standing there taping his fingers at her for five minutes and looked up to see who it was, he had already been bewitched thoroughly.

Then he looked at the apples he held that she had given to him before she had left, and he picked up one carefully and looked into its polished surface, but he didn't see his own reflection or his face in its deep red color.

Instead, he saw her wistful, somewhat melancholy face staring straight back at him, and when he rolled over, he thought he heard her soft, mellow voice calling, "Raye" and he smiled like a fool to himself and promised to find a chance to see Misora Naomi once more and hear her calling him by his name again.

But years later, on his death day, when he lay on the train station's ground, he looked up and watched in sheer horror as Yagami Light's handsome, if not beautiful face twisted terribly in a truly frightening sneer.

And the Raye Penber in the future subsequently felt his heart go into overdrive while he had a heart attack there and then as dictated by the Death note; but he thought he heard her gentle voice calling him again before darkness claimed him for all eternity.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 5

Misora Naomi was a gone case. She never thought she would admit it to herself since she usually pretended that she always had the upper hand, but she was a gone case.

It was sad, but it was true.

Undoubtedly, she worked as well as she had always done before, probably because she had the capabilities of a machine half the time and could afford to daydream even while working.

She was still pretending that she didn't quite really quite care for Raye Penber and the most recent encounter they had a few days ago, but the dopey grin on her face when she was alone proved that her pretense wasn't quite successful.

But when he appeared to help his father out in some cases and she wasn't able to catch a glimpse of him, she would feel rotten and sore for the rest of the day. Nobody noticed though, Misora Naomi was just too good at pretending when it came to things like that.

Then when she got back to her desk, she would find apples there even though he left no name and then Naomi would cheer up immediately. He never asked her to date him and she wasn't even sure if she was just one of the many in his daisy-chain, but she still wanted to see him everyday.

Once, he passed by her desk and she ignored him even when nobody was there because she couldn't afford to let anyone know she was very interested in Raye Penber, or Elliot Turner, as everyone of them knew him.

But she hadn't counted on him tapping on her desk to get her attention when nobody was around to see him seize her in his arms, casually pull the band that held her hair in a ponytail away, and kiss her for the first time in her life.

She hadn't minded that they'd only met about four times, she had just gone along with his audacity and he had grinned when they heard voices coming their way. And then he had instantly scooted while she quickly bent down and started writing with her long, untied hair covering most of her face, trying not to breathe so heavily.

So her colleagues who subsequently came back after their lunch hour didn't see her flushed cheeks, bright eyes and rosy, swollen lips. And nobody asked why her hair, usually tied neatly at the back in a long ponytail was let loose and flowing like a raven waterfall down her back. They didn't notice anyway because she was good at pretending.

Then Raye sent her a note one day asking whether she could meet him, and while she read the note and sized up whether it was really he who had sent the note or it was some trick, all because she had always been a cautious person, her hands had twitched in excitement and a co-worker had asked what made her so happy that day.

He made her feel like a child again, the sort that was led around by the hand like some kind of pet, and the type which she had always tried not to be because she wanted to show everyone she was independent and didn't need their help.

And when she ran out from the building, still in her office skirt but wearing a black sweater since winter was arriving, she was eager to get to the train station where he would be waiting, but then she spotted him leaning against the fence and looking down at something, his black hair neatly combed, framing his pale face and making it all the more striking.

"Damn him for looking so good," she thought. He probably only had to wake up to look like he belonged in a catalogue with girls who had pretty smiles and lovely faces like Fuijwara Shizuka who was becoming the most well-known model on the scene recently. But she couldn't try and introduce them now, she was afraid he'd go after her former classmate and then she'd be moping around for hours at a stretch.

"Raye," she called hesitantly, and he looked up instantly and waved smilingly.

"What is it you wanted to see me about?" she asked curiously as he took her books and files from her like the gentleman he was.

She refused to let him take all though, she wasn't some useless kind of princess in some high tower, she had her hands and arms and feet, she'd jolly well use them properly.

"Could we eat something first?" he cut in quickly, "I'm starving, I hope you are too."

He was hesitant about something too, but he didn'thave an edge in his voice or his eyes, so it must be something embarassing and not painful, she thought in an instant. Then she heard her stomach growl in approval and had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Alright," she said easily, "Let's go."

By the time they reached a little café, his stomach was growling too, and they tucked in without much further ado. They both had very healthy appetites, and they didn't say very much to each other especially since their mouths were filled with food morsels of every kind.

But when the waistband of her skirt started getting uncomfortably tight, Raye put down his glass, looked at her very shyly and said, "Will you go out with me from now on?"

In spite of everything, she suddenly remembered that she was going to be seventeen and he was eighteen, and then she realised that they were really much younger than they thought they were. Life had made them grow up so quickly and but taught them so little about the things that really mattered that she had lost some things she wanted to keep now, and as much as pretended she wouldn't mind losing those, she did.

So Naomi smiled and said a little embarrassedly, "I will. Thank you for asking me."

They gazed at each other for a few long minutes that seemed to stretch out into eternity, and although Naomi Misora never had been attached to anyone before, she knew it was for real, and she was suddenly frightened.

If Raye Penber had been a boy who she didn't like immensely or dislike immensely either, then she wouldn't have been that affected by the whole experience of her first date.

Naomi Misora would have just gone out with him to try her luck a little, but then it was difficult meeting someone who she knew she wanted to be with forever, even at such a tender age.

Her teacher had warned her and all her classmates in school a long time ago that getting attached early was normal for adolescents like her, heck; she even studied about it when she was in school. They had said that every girl who met a boy they liked had a very normal urge to want to get married to him, since it was a stage all girls went through in their lives, and while she was still young, she wasn't a teenager anymore, and this wasn't an urge, it was a need.

But she had never thought of herself as an adolescent anyway, and she knew she had been forced to become a grown up when she had somehow managed to sleep by crying herself senseless with an ache and longing for those back in Japan so strong in her that she thought her heart had been taken out, ripped into half, gnashed in the side, and put back in her for her to carry the pain throughout the night.

And she thought of how her parents living back home in Japan would be horrified when she told them she would be going out with a FBI agent, fully aware that an agent's life was dangerous and their working times very unpredictable. Anyway, who ever said they were getting married, she thought bemusedly. Maybe she was thinking too much.

But it wasn't an FBI agent's life being dangerous that she cared or was concerned about at that stage. It was Raye Penber himself; he was a threat to her.

He scarcely tried to be a threat, but without knowing it himself, he could invade her thoughts and make her daydream for an hour at a stretch and maybe if this went further, he'd make her lose her senses completely and totally. So she knew that he was a dangerous person even if he didn't mean to be.

At the same time, she knew she could trust him with her life even though she had never wanted to depend on anybody at all, and she had been afraid of being a hindrance all of her life but now, she strangely wanted to be a hindrance to him because she knew he wanted her to hinder him.

Naomi Misora had reasoning skills and logic in a class high above the average person's, and she could sense that she would, one day, hinder Raye Penber in his work because she knew he was the kind who allowed those he cared for to affect his state of mind and his actions. She could sense even then, that something ominous would happen eventually, because she was a pessimist by nature, but Raye was an optimist instead.

He may not have realised that even with all his intelligence, because Raye Penber had one fault of being a very trusting and open person to those he deemed as trustworthy. But she was different, she never really trusted many people unless her instincts were telling her that too, and she could have refused to be with Raye Penber and told him there and then that she would be a hindrance to him. Maybe not now, but one day, she would be.

But then again, he might have already sensed that she would be a hindrance, since everyday was like a mystery to him when he found himself thinking of her and wondering what she was doing at that very instant.

He had girlfriends before, maybe because he had been lonely even thought he hadn't quite wanted to admit it, but they were only there for the company. And one day they'd just realised it and they would suddenly break up and he'd live as per normal, not affected, not caring, not anything actually, quite unlike the way he allowed himself to be affected just for a sixteen year old now. So he figured along the way that she was a hindrance to him too.

And years later, Naomi Misora actually cost him his life, and Raye Penber's death subsequently cost her hers.

But they didn't know that when he was eighteen and she was barely hitting seventeen, and even if they had known they would kill each other indirectly, it wouldn't have successfully stopped either of them from falling madly and completely for each other.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 6

She cursed fluidly and colorfully at him in Japanese and he did the same with some Chinese thrown in for good measure, and then she sobbed and allowed him to take her in his arms and hug her while he stroked her hair and whispered nonsensical words that she somehow still understood as his attempts to comfort both of them.

"You crapass," she sobbed as she brokenly beat his broad chest with her fists.

"I know," he said miserably, taking all her blows as if they were weak punches, which they actually were, "But I can't help it, you know I can't."

She had been sitting there in her favorite sofa she had bought with her own pay and lugged home all the way from the furniture shop, waiting to celebrate Raye's nineteenth birthday with him.

And he had arrived at her house late, not that she minded, when they went out together, they often had to play the waiting-game which she hadn't hated at all. Some girls would complain or curse about the waiting they had to do for their boyfriends sometimes, and a few had broken up because they had argued over waiting for each other, something so trivial but in the long run, would be a potential danger to any relationship.

In fact, she liked sitting alone and waiting for him to suddenly appear and catch her in his arms to whirl her around and laugh the merry, open laugh she loved to hear, or remember the feeling of her grabbing her things and rushing out when she had finished her work and see him standing there waiting for her in his familiar old trench coat.

Sometimes they argued and she wondered if he would break up with her the next time they met, but then every time they met, it would be in embrace and all would be forgiven if not forgotten.

When she ran into his arms and he automatically pulled her hair loose which she allowed nobody to do but him as a rare exception, her heart would swell with joy and she could stop pretending that she was an unruffled, mild person the way she did at work and become a slightly more talkative, responsive human that actually felt alive. But that was only when she was with Raye Penber; curse him for being so powerful over her.

He had taught her how to be needy and dependent, and he had removed her loner ways and her desire to independent. And he hadn't even tried very hard to.

But then this time had been different, and although she hadn't bought a cake or anything because she had been late too and had gotten to her home first, quite knowing he would turn up sooner or later for dinner with her, and she had sensed something wasn't right immediately.

Raye had turned up, but he hadn't laughed and caught her in his arms like he always had done for a year during their time they had so far together. Even when they had quarreled terribly the day before or at some instance, fought, he had always taken her readily, if not eagerly, into his strong arms in an embrace she always returned no matter how angry she had been at him when they had quarreled.

But today, he had only looked at her with serious eyes and morosely said, "I've been posted to England for five years to train in an advanced course as an FBI agent , and then I will do my work there."

Naomi hadn't tried to mind, she had sat down next to him and said very tonelessly, suddenly forced to pretend again, "That's great news, you'll come back with more experience and then you'll be in a better spot to climb the ladder."

"Yes" he said, hoping silently that she would stop pretending that she didn't care, "That's what I thought at first, but it's five whole years. It's a long time away from America."

"And you", he added silently in his head, watching her carefully for a sign, any sign at all. But she was good at pretending, he admitted to himself, in fact, she was very exceptional at it. He didn't mind when she was that way with others, it just made him feel more special, and he didn't mind that his ego was getting inflated by it either.

"I don't mind, it's good for you anyway," she said emotionlessly as she sat back and sank slightly into the couch.

"You don't?" he said, feeling upset that she really didn't seem to mind that they'd be only in contact through the occasional phone call while straddling the long distance relationship, that is, if she still wanted the one she had with him right now.

And he was upset at the thought that maybe she wasn't pretending that she was fine with him leaving for five whole years. Maybe she really didn't mind.

"Which part of my face says I do?" she said coldly with a touch of uncaring wryness in her voice.

He sighed wistfully and took her face in his hands, making her look straight at him, and he studied her very carefully.

Her forehead was smooth, not furrowed at all, no frown or irritation or any slightest hint that she might be upset.

Her lips weren't trembling, they weren't pursed together either like she was about to cry or yell or do anything got that matter at all.

And her nose wasn't wrinkled in distaste like it would be when he told her cold jokes.

At first glance, she was emotionless like she didn't feel anything about him having to leave.

But he looked carefully at her again, gazed at her raven-black, guarded eyes that did not meet his gray ones and said very quietly, "Your eyes do."

Then her mouth had crumpled and she broke down completely and launched herself into his arms while he held her very tightly, and she started cursing at him in complex, rapid-fire Japanese sentences, calling him every name and hurling every insult at him possible in the book.

And out of sheer habit, he cursed back at her in Japanese and a sprinkling of his own tongue the way they always did when they quarreled. And then to round it off, they looked at each other with poorly-concealed misery in her eyes and plainly presented agony in his and said loudly to each other to try and stem the pain, "Damn you."

But when they were done with the whole works, she agreed that she would apply for the FBI while he trained in England, and they would stay together even though they had a few oceans keeping them apart.

He hadn't wanted her to try and joining the FBI, it was bad enough that he was in it, but it was her life to run while he was away, so he remained silent when she told him that she would enlist in FBI too.

"One day," he thought inwardly and promised himself and to her silently," I'll come and take you away from anything that can hurt you."

And when they got a knife to cut the cake she managed to find in her house that a neighbor had given her a week ago, he blew lightly at the nineteen pieces of chocolate fingers stuck proudly in the cake as makeshift candles with imaginary flames.

And even though she broke of the thirteenth chocolate finger and was about ready to eat it, he took it from her, stuck it back into the cake so it looked like it was for a twenty year old and proceeded to kiss her over and over again.

When she finally chased him out of her apartment because it was getting late and she had to work in the morning and he had a flight to catch, he stood at the doorway and said quietly, "I will always be waiting to come back to you."

She looked at him, trying not to start tearing again and wanted to say that she would be waiting for him to return too, but then she choked because of the tight lump in her throat and only managed to smile painfully, knowing that he would leave the next morning.

But when he had walked a little distance away from her doorway, she choked out, loudly enough for him to hear, "Happy nineteenth birthday!"

And Raye turned around to face her, her hair whipping wildly in the wind, her pale hands clasped around the gate and her eyes large and vulnerably and he had mouthed, "Thank you."

He knew she would eventually realize his throat was painfully tight too and he couldn't even choke out his thanks the way she had choked out her sentence earlier.

Then he turned and walked away, and she reverted herself, leaning heavily against her closed door and she faced the inside of her apartment with tears running down her cheeks so she couldn't see him leaving.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 7

So Misora Naomi was left alone again, but she didn't mind so much once she successfully entered the FBI and trained to be qualified as a certified agent, because she didn't have time to think about herself after that. And more importantly, shedidn't have to think about Raye so much because like the way he had left, she didn't have any choice.

She was trained to think even more analytically and reasoned out things with pure logic more accurately than ever and sometimes she was afraid she was a machine that was trained to think and hunt criminals and be merciless.

And her shooting skills were even better than before because of all the practice she was forced into doing, and she rose up the ranks as one of the best detectives on the current FBI teams. They knew she was young, some of them scorned her for being only nineteen, but then she proved them wrong over and over again until they had to wave their white flags and say, "I surrender," and like her teacher when she was thirteen, say that she was really something.

Misora Naomi pretended she didn't care about what they said or what their comments were, but she was terribly pleased inside, and she wanted to tell Raye that she was doing well like he hinted that he was. But she knew better than to answer his letters with a fake address in England attached.

She burnt every single one of them each time in case someone found them, although she wanted to throw away her lighter every time she saw his precious letters burning into half, then a few corners, then nothing at all.

His letters were always harmless because he was intelligent and trained to write only non-confidential things and very mundane issues nobody would refer to and realize that he was an FBI agent. But she was going to be a certified agent like him very soon; she couldn't afford to abandon the ways they both had been taught.

So she pretended that she didn't mind burning his letters although she was left feeling so empty after that that she started collecting the ashes and what remained of his letters to put it in a little box hidden well away in the secret compartment of a drawer.

She could risk it because she knew that even if anybody found it, they wouldn't be able to do anything much with shapeless, grey ashes. But at least the light grey ashes, flecked with little darker bits of edges, looked like Raye's eyes to her.

Day after day, she climbed the ladder higher and faster and with more grit, just so she could go wait for Raye to come back and be proud of her, even thought her parents didn't know she was an FBI agent once she had been worn into secrecy.

Bit by bit, she lost some of her childlikeness or what had been left in the first place while she hunted down criminals and cracked the codes over and over again until she wouldn't trust anything anymore.

Little by little, Misora Naomi forgot what her name sounded like because she had nearly thirty alibis and codenames in total, and she could pick up a pen and sign any of those as confidently as she once had for her own name.

But one day, she had tried to write sign her name in a reply letter to Raye's and she found herself hesitating and she had hated everything about herself then. Then she remembered she wouldn't reach him anyway, and she promptly reached for the letter she had completed and tore it cleanly into half.

Raye was doing very well, in fact splendidly, as far as she could gather from his letters, he had a promising future in front of him in the FBI like her, and he was regularly promoted to a higher class of FBI agent every half a year. By the time he had completed his first year abroad, he had become a team leader, someone in her office told her quietly.

But although he didn't tell her anything, Naomi Misora knew he wasn't just posted in England, he was all over the world. When she looked at the paper he had used to write on, she knew the countries he went to were probably war-stricken because the paper was thinner than the very first pieces he had used when he was posted in England, and the paper he used now had that sort of yellow, faded effect, the kind of paper people living in danger saved and used in emergencies.

And when she picked up his letters and pressed it near to her, she could smell a faint whiff of spices, and spices were definitely rare in England. So she concluded he was now somewhere in the Middle East. He usually didn't write much, it never had been his style to pour out every month's events, and most of the things he did was either classified information or too dangerous to tell her, but he usually sent photos of things he saw, and she saw through his eyes even though he was careful not to show her pictures of his surroundings.

Without really noticing the time that flew past her but still feeling the dull throb of pain every time she received a photo of his, she would look at Raye in those featuring him smiling at her with a scrawny cat he had picked up on the road and brought home to adopt.

He would sometimes, send a photograph of the cat who now lived with him, and she was glad to see it was plump and incredibly well-fed now, and a few pictures of himself and some friends in their daily garb, as in their 'normal' working attire. Their names were fake though, that she was sure of, and she somehow could not help being miserable that nobody even called her Misora nowadays since she used a fake name like them too.

He posed as an accountant, that she knew after he wrote that all he did was count money everyday, and she laughed at the irony that she was doing exactly the same as him now but would never be able to tell him that until he returned to her.

She hadn't written to him, knowing she wouldn't reach him, the agents working in the mail system always erased FBI agents' addresses and put in different ones just for safety, and she had wanted to ask him why he had picked up the scrawny all that week.

But then she knew there wasn't much of anyway to contact him unless she barged into FBI quarters and demanded to know his whereabouts in an emergency, or no way at all. Then one day, it struck her that he was lonely even though he never said once to her through all his letters, "I miss you" or "I'm lonely" or anything like that at all.

Ironically, that would have actually made his letters more shrouded in secrecy since it would have looked more like a normal person had written it in that sense, but she knew that his work was becoming more difficult every time his lips became tighter and his words became fewer.

He never wrote her real name in those letters, he was afraid someone might intercept his letters and refer back to her and then she'd be threatened and put at risk. He never wrote all of this, of course, but she could guess as much.

And she never told her parents that she was going out with an FBI agent, they were always calling up nowadays and asking her to 'go find some nice boy' and she listened quietly and never said anything when they asked her to go home to Japan for a holiday and get acquainted with some people they'd met. She was sure they were males about her age who her parents had probably already shown a photograph of her to.

Sometimes the paper Raye wrote on was smudged a little with what looked like a bit of water, although it was very little. She supposed even Raye cried sometimes, after all, old, jaded men cried too, and he was a human anyway.

Once, Naomi had seen a colleague offering a stray puppy to anyone who wanted it, and Naomi had offered to look after it until somebody wanted it. Then Raye had heard about what she had done, and he had raised his eyebrows and asked why she wanted something like a puppy and she had replied that it might be nice to have someone waiting for him at home.

She had been sad when somebody eventually took the puppy she had pretended not to care for, but she had become attached to it in secret. But she let it go to another person eventually because the person would take care of it better than she ever would.

Raye had picked up a stray on the road too, and he hadn't given it away unlike her, but kept it in his house. Or wherever he was living now, she wasn't sure. He was probably on the move all the time, but in his letters, he had said, "I am certain I would want to bring the cat on my holidays on day-offs. Of course that's not possible for now, I haven't saved up much for a holiday, but the Bahamas might be nice. Besides, my boss likes me to be doing checks all day."

She knew he hated the tropical weather and the Bahamas, he preferred temperate countries with their cold weather and changing seasons instead, and she also knew that his superior was a tough old bulldog well known by FBI agents as a slave-driver. So he was busy like her too.

But why bring a cat that would only hinder him? And she wondered about it and suddenly saw why he had picked up something like that and brought it home.

So he must have had been lonely too, she realised one day when she got home and she had to switch on the lights and see an empty apartment and chairs nobody had sat on other than her for months and months already.

And then she had promptly gone to her bedroom and cried herself to sleep after that. This time though, she hadn't bothered with muting the sobs with pillows.

The next day, she went and got herself a plant she knew would withstand the lack of water for days and proper care, but it would still flower eventually. It was a tough plant that would suit someone like her. At least she'd have something to wait for her when she came home like Raye too.

And Raye's father had died in the third year when Raye had been abroad, by a heart attack they had never expected him to have. He had suddenly dipped to his feet and suddenly convulsed violently and then he had died, but his last words had been a scream for his son while those in the department were trying to call for an ambulance and get help.

Nobody had seen the attack coming, since he was somewhat of a health nut and was very fit, and he looked almost like he was thirty only, and the doctor's had to assume death of sudden heart attack even though he never had a history of a weak heart or anything related to his sudden death. But this information wasn't released to anyone there, what they all saw had just been her superior suddenly collapsing while people panicked and hurried to help.

But Misora Naomi had known it was too late, she had backed against the wall, her face paler than ever, and her eyes had been wide and her lips had trembled. Long after they pronounced him dead in the office itself, she was still curled in a corner shivering, her knees up to her chest in a protective stance.

Then a co-worker had kindly helped her to stand and sent her home where she stood fully-clothed in the shower for an hour with the water running down her hair and clothes.

She pretended she didn't cry that day, the water running down the cheeks was merely the water from the shower tap, but her red-rimmed eyes and weariness gave her away and suddenly, she was too bitter and tired to pretend anymore.

Raye hadn't been able to leave his top-secret assignment to go home for the funeral. Somebody in his real office had probably given him the terrible news, and she was glad she couldn't contact him for once. Because it meant that someone else was the bearer of the news and not her, she didn't know how to face him.

But he had simply written her a letter, nicely folded with a fake address attached that said, "Cry for me."

The rest of the paper he wrote on was empty, no words scribbled across it, no photographs of happy, comforting things attached, nothing.

"Cry for me" he had said.

So she had.

They buried Raye's father on a rainy day, and she thought it was fitting that the sun wouldn't shine through the dark clouds that day. When she had gone home after walking home in the rain, she had seen the little plant at her window sill, flowering beautifully for the first time, and she had screamed in an insane rage and whirled it with all her might, slamming it into the wall and leaving muddy stains and brilliant-red blood everywhere on the white, once-pristine walls.

And her fingers had been cut by the sharp pieces of the broken pot, and she had eventually gotten up from where she had collapsed to wash and bandage her wounds and repot the plant. Then she looked at the little plant and said softly, "Sorry."

The next day, she arrived for work as per usual.

And very soon, the pain numbed, although Raye never sent letters after that. There were times when she considered trying to track down his whereabouts and go see him, but she never got down to doing what was deemed as insane.

It drove her mad at night when she would wonder if he'd found someone else who could comfort him or if he was in too much pain to write to her anymore. And she didn't know what to believe in anymore.

Once she had been promoted to the highest rank of certified agent when she hit twenty, she had been assigned on a team to assist the top detective in the world, L. She never bothered trying to figure out his name or what the mysterious person looked like, and she never wondered whether L was a female or male. She knew he was trustable and that was enough for her.

Day in day out, she slept, but barely a few hours, plagued by Raye's face and his laugh and his smile and she woke up in tears every time she thought she saw him mouth the words 'thank you' and walk away without turning back to look at her even once.

And she helped to solve possibly the toughest case of the year in America with L leading the FBI, with him, they could never go wrong, and she trusted L, even with all his mysterious, enigmatic ways, more than ever.

On the day when they finally closed the case, her superior promoted her again, because of her achievement while on the job that had led L to crack the case so efficiently with her help.

Even L was asking for her real name now, and since she trusted L, she gave it, knowing fully well that L wouldn't give her his or her own real name. And then L would call for her to be on the team every time a case L wanted to solve cropped up, and she became renowned in the field.

Naomi Misora was one of the few people who had spoken to L privately, of course not in real person before, but through a screen unwatched by others, even Watari, the only person who could contact L. She was glad L trusted her like he said he did, and she could detect the sincerity in the voice that was coming through the systems, mangled, but still sincere and full of warmth.

She was overjoyed when L said he trusted Misora Naomi, because she was afraid she didn't quite trust herself anymore.

And then she went home early one day and saw her calendar, the type she liked, the sort that you had to rip off a page day by day to get to the next one, and she clutched a huge wad of passed dates in her hands and ripped half the book out to get to where she was today. Ironically, it was her twenty-third birthday, and then she knew that Raye was supposed to end his overseas relocation that year, but thought miserably, "How long more?"

Then she sorted though her mail and saw a single one from Raye, probably the only one she had gotten after his father had died. She checked the date it had been written, about a week's time ago, and a sentence stood out more than his usual words to her, "I will arrive home on your birthday."

And Naomi read it, her eyes widening, and suddenly, she knew that he would be coming back for her. He didn't say what date and what time he would arrive for security measures at least, and she was thrilled and wanted to go fetch him even though she didn't know what time he would arrive back home.

So she had immediately decided to wait for as long as it took, after all, she had waited three years, a few more hours wouldn't hurt, and she put on her favorite black sweater and jeans with her trusty black boots, her hair long and untied.

Then she had rushed out of her house scanning the roads for a taxi, but when she got out, she saw him already leaning against the rail there, looking at the ground, his black hair framing his face once more, and she called out to him, "Raye!"

He heard her calling his name and looked up at her with his grey eyes lighting up, and then she was suddenly in his arms again and she never wanted to let go.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 8

The days they spent after that were quite terrible, but neither of them minded, and because of that, a year and another passed quickly before either of them noticed it. Since both of them didn't have any difficult, long-drawn cases in the next year, they went back to the police force to work, but that didn't mean it was any less difficult to see each other or they weren't as busy as before.

The only time when she saw him was in the evening when he came to fetch her or she went to find him. Then they'd leave behind all their problems at work and be happy together by just eating a meal. Sometimes when they both finished early, they would go to either his apartment or hers to cook, and it would end up as a complete fiasco.

But Naomi Misora found one thing she wasn't good at, cooking. In fact, she was downright terrible before he started teaching her.

Raye was wonderful at it, give him a kitchen with barely anything functioning or stocked up in it and he'd make a feast out of it. He was always incredibly patient when he taught her how to cut vegetables and make stews, that sort of thing, and he never laughed at the end result of her cooking experiments when she produced dinner, he cheerfully ate everything and asked for more.

To be fair to her, the taste wasn't half-bad, quite good actually, just that it never came out looking as well-planned and executed as his, but he didn't mind; Raye always laughed at her gloominess and thanked her for the meal.

One day, they had gotten back to his place for dinner, they always took turns inviting each other over and to her, and she knew his place so well that she could even find some documents he had been missing for ages. Today was her turn to cook, but she finally threw in the towel and suddenly announced when they got into his apartment, "I'll do all the washing up; you can do all the cooking."

He grinned and asked, "Why? I thought we were making quite good progress these days."

She was about to laugh, then she stopped herself in time, and offered a smile instead, and was about to say, "My cooking will never go beyond this stage, this is the maximum that I can get to," but he suddenly held up a hand as if to pause her from continuing and came very close to her, staring hard at her face and she edged a way a little.

"What?" she said, puzzled if there was anything stuck to her face.

"Why don't you laugh?" he said curiously, his grey eyes searching her face in wonder.

"I don't?" she said carefully. He'd figure out that now, hadn't he?

"That's what I realised," he continued blithely, "You don't laugh, or rather, you haven't laughed at all ever since I got back."

She paused a little and then offered weakly, "My laugh isn't very nice to hear like yours, so I try not to."

"Right," he repeated slowly, trying to make sense of it, "Will it help you laugh if I say I like to hear it?"

"No," she said, suddenly as stubborn as a mule, "You're lying that you like to hear such a weird laugh."

"I'm not," he obstinately said, perhaps even more stubborn than her," I want to hear it now, or we'll get no dinner from me tonight."

"Fine" she declared coldly, "I'll just go home and cook something to eat, rotten or not, Raye-Penber-dinner-special or not."

"Alright," he said a bit sulkily like a child, "but I still want to hear it."

And he was so comical in spite of his lean frame, handsome, serious face and those solemn gray eyes that she couldn't help laughing for him, and suddenly when he joined her, she wasn't quite so ashamed of the weak, breathless-sounding laughter that ensued from her parted lips.

Then he caught her up securely and said lovingly, "You should laugh more."

When she scowled in response and pushed him away, he clucked his tongue at her like a mother hen and strode off to fetch his apron which she had always thought was ridiculous on a man like him at his age. The apron had been the former house owner's, but it had been left behind, a bright green apron with cats printed at the hem with ribbons at the back. But Raye was too lazy to go buy one more befitting of a twenty-six year old man, so he stuck to the ridiculously childish one.

The cat he had kept as a pet should have been there, but then it had run off a week before he left to go back to America, and he had told her teasingly he thought that the cat was an angel sent down to keep him company until he didn't need it anymore since he was returning to her.

She had shaken her head at him and said dryly, "Have you no shame? You're twenty-six but you treat the cat and I like toys you get rid of once you don't need."

"No I don't!" he had protested strongly as he slipped his hands around her waist and attempted to pull her to him which she resisted, "The cat ran away from me by itself, I didn't get rid of it! And I won't get rid of you either!"

And then she had grinned and said, "But I can choose to be like the cat too," but he had interrupted her, his eyes guarded although she caught the flash of pain and then he said forcefully, "Don't run away from me too."

Then she remembered that she was all he had left after his father had died and had felt a little sorry that she had carried the joke too far. And that day, she had tried to be cheerful and not a little melancholy like she always was, but then he hadn't noticed much and had been quite content to just hold her silently in a sort of protective embrace until she had to shoo him out of her house again.

So now, while the tempting fragrances drifted throughout the house, Naomi wandered about his house and looked at the familiar photographs he had carefully placed on the cupboard and desk.

His mother had been a Chinese, that she knew, but she hadn't realised how beautiful his mother had been, and how young she was before she succumbed to cancer when he had been a child, but on hindsight, it had been silly to not realize his mother was stunning. He didn't look remotely like his father although his father was quite handsome too, so obviously he had gotten most of his face from his mother save the eyes.

She paused to straighten some chairs and cushions and made his bed although she knew he would probably jump straight into the covers and knock off like a dead cow and not make it again the next day because he knew he was going to mess it up the next night and the next night and subsequently.

She'd have to teach him a thing or two after he finished cooking too although she understood his reasoning. And his cooking was first-class, she often teased him about how he'd make a good house-husband if he ever chose to be one, but she knew that being motherless with a busy father had forced him to become that way.

Now while they ate, she asked him teasingly for lack of any other conversation topic because they refrained from talking about work, "Did you meet any nice girls while you were away?"

He looked at her and saw that while she was poker-faced, her eyes were laughing, so he took the cue and set down his fork, and swallowed his mouthful.

"Yes," he said mock-thoughtfully, "My landlady, the boss's wife, the married neighbor next door, the shopkeeper in the convenience store, the florist, the gardener's daughter, the little girl down the street, the," and he would have continued with more scandalous hints had she not interrupted him.

"Little girl down the street?" she gasped, quite forgetting it had started off as a joke, "You mean you actually went for a little girl, you pedophile you?"

"Yeah," he said laughingly although his mouth remained straight and did not twitch, "She was about three."

Then he grinned cheerfully and she laughed and said, "I know you didn't, you fakey."

"How about you?" he countered, although the light in his eyes was replaced by a singular serious glint, "Did you meet anyone else that was so unforgettable that it made you forget me instead?"

She saw he was half-in jest though, and appealed to that side when she looked at him and said,"Just L."

It was true though, she had known that working with L would make her forget him for a while so she could numb her pain of being apart from him because L assigned work the way a farmer made the bull plough in fields all day. If she just worked, she wouldn't think so much.

Nobody who had worked with L ever said, "Just L". L wasn't some random person; L was the FBI's trump card and the world's answer to injustice and the most difficult, complicated cases. But she had said, "Just L."

"L", he murmured, "The greatest detective in the world. I hope L's not straight, or I'm in big trouble there."

"I wouldn't know," she said amusedly, "I spoke to L only through a screen you know."

He was impressed, not many people could ever say they had, not forgetting that she was a young detective and had little actual field experience or any past of dealing with the famous L.

"I know," he said teasingly again from opposite her, "but L probably can see you through the screen he uses and he probably likes what he sees."

"How do you know L's a male anyway?" she retorted, pushing a random piece of carrot around on her plate, curious about how he guessed that L was a male when nobody was really quite sure.

"Because he asked for your real name specially," Raye answered swiftly.

"That's because I helped well on the case and they promoted me after that," she said indignantly.

"Of course you did," he said admiringly, "And it helps you're a right real looker too."

She pretended she didn't hear him, but he chuckled and said, "Ah, come on, you, didn't anyone tell you that and say you were a real nice catch for any straight male?"

Then she had to grimace because she wanted to pretend she knew all about boys and make him think he was just another boy she had gone out with, and so she chose to say, "Bet the three-year old girl you met down the street knew you were a big catch too, no?"

Then Naomi would have been quite contented to eat in silence and avoid the conversation that was rapidly becoming more and more embarrassing for her.

Nobody ever said she was pretty, they just complimented her on her outfit the first time they met her, but since she wore the same thin everyday anyway because she had dozens of the same outfit in her closet, the compliment fell flat and nobody offered it after the first and second time they saw her.

In fact, nobody ever said she was pretty because she wasn't that sort of girl, she had already ranged into what was deemed as 'beautiful' and not just simple plain old 'pretty' but nobody bothered saying that to her. They thought she already knew she was, but she didn't at all. They were more content to point out her intelligence and wisdom because they thought telling her she was beautiful would insult her clever mind, and even then, she had been a little embarrassed to accept their compliments.

"I hear that a lot of the time," Raye nonchalantly said, and she threw her napkin at him and retorted, "You've probably had more girlfriends than the average boy or girl for that matter. I knew they'd say you were a real catch and that's what you hear and that's what the three-year old girl might have thought, but that's not what Naomi Misora thinks."

"Ah, you liar, Naomi Misora you," he scoffed, catching the napkin neatly and using it to dab his lips conveniently, "You know you do think that about me too."

And he looked at her carefully and she wanted to be able to stare convinced into his eyes and say in a strong, confident voice, "I don't care a hoot and I don't give a heck either."

But what came out was a little way too off then what she had planned.

"No I don't!" she cried a little embarrassedly when he continued gazing at her.

He raised one perfect eyebrow at her and laughed, and she had to give it up and laugh with him too.

"Damn, I was hoping that you'd think I was a real catch and then you'd agree today to-," he trailed off tantalizingly.

"To what?" she cut in warily, "Agree to wash the dishes everyday? Wash all your clothes right after that? Be a domestic slave once my own work's done at five-thirty every evening? Just because I think you're a real catch like maybe three-quarters of the female population and the non-straight males out there?"

"-marry me," he continued calmly, and then he picked up something in his seat and she saw it was a velvet box, and when he opened it, there was a simple band of silver glinting at her.

Rendered quite speechless, she gaped at him like an imbecile.

All he did was hold it out and smile knowingly, and he even had the cheek to slyly tilt and swivel his hand slightly so that it caught the light and glinted at her even more temptingly. Now she wanted to take it and try it on, he was so smart he was, she wondered why she didn't see that coming when she ought to have.

"You tricked me!" she cried indignantly, "You made me say I didn't think you were a real catch and now you want to start trying to be smart with me and make me eat my own words! You're having a go at me, you!"

"That's right," he grinned unabashedly, and then he grabbed her hand, picked off the ring neatly and lightly slid on the band of cool metal onto her finger where she suddenly felt warm inside and knew she was heating up and blushing.

Then she recovered sufficiently and said weakly unlike what she had imagined she wanted to sound like, "I ought to say no then."

He looked at her and smiled slightly, "But you won't."

And she thought of how he might see she was trying to pretend her heart wasn't racing and how she was terribly afraid that he was being rash and making a decision they'd regret later and how frightened she was of something she didn't know much about.

She wished then that she had gone out with more boys and then she'd be able to handle men like Raye Penber then. But she thought then that there'd probably be nobody like Raye Penber other than himself, and damn it, he was Raye Penber, so that didn't count either. And she proceeded to get herself confused with everything.

But she saw that his eyes had that strange glint in them and he wasn't smiling but looking very serious, and then she was wondering how to tell him anything when he stared at her with his grey eyes she knew she had always loved and said pleadingly, "Please."

She knew that he had called her bluff, she wouldn't be able to say no, not so much because of him, but more of because she knew she wanted to tell him yes.

So Naomi Misora, aged twenty three smiled helplessly and nodded, and then he pulled her up and led her around the little table and hugged her until she thought she was having the life hugged out of her.

A while later when they were still locked in embrace, mainly because he didn't want to let go, she twisted a little so she could look up better to his handsome face, although he didn't release his hold on her and she didn't either.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I hated you on first sight, Raye."

"I knew that a long time ago," he responded laughingly, "Because I stood there in front of your desk waiting for so long and you just ignored me for about eternity."

"Not that, that wasn't on purpose," she corrected him seriously, letting his hands shift softly through her hair, "But I knew you were the sort of arrogant, passionate idiot you really are."

"Oh," he said unconcernedly, "I am, aren't I?"

She didn't know what to say but tried to make a kind of decent comeback anyway.

"You are," she confirmed confidently, "And I hated you."

"And to exact revenge," he said mildly, "All because I knew the girl I had only met once hated me immediately on first sight, I made her marry me."

Naomi stopped resting her head comfortably against his broad chest then and jerked away, her face suddenly shocked, "Serious?"

He grinned at her and his dark hair spilled a little into his eyes and he impatiently shook it away, "But of course I liked her first, and that's why."

"Okay," she said mutely, "I'll forgive you for being such a complete crapass then."

"I knew you would," he said confidently, then he picked her up quite easily since she was tiny compared to his height and reach barely up to his shoulders and swung her around until she laughed so much she cried.

"The dinner's cold!" she cried breathlessly when he had finally put her down.

"But everyone knows revenge is best served cold," he said seriously, then he smiled very suddenly, lighting up the place with just that, and he bent down and said very simply, "You're not Misora Naomi anymore, you're Naomi Penber from now on."

Then she knew she wouldn't have to pretend to be something she accepted herself for any longer, because she knew Raye Penber would accept her any way she was.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note or the characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 9

The next three months were terribly blissful, so saturated with joy and happiness that Naomi Misora sometimes had to pause and ask if she deserved it.

She sold her apartment and took all her things over to Raye's apartment which, sad to say, was about three times the size of hers, since he obviously could afford better than the simple four room flat she had consisting of one bedroom, one kitchen, one bathroom and one living room which coupled as a dining room too.

His place had three bedrooms although the rest of it was about the same as hers, and one bedroom was used as a storeroom where he threw all his things in and never bothered taking them out until he was forced to go locate it. And the second bedroom he had had never been used, he never invited guests over to stay there either, so it was just nice for her to move in and clear the dust away.

Raye had raised a quizzical eyebrow when she had brought along the tiny little plant with her and said, puzzled, "Why'd you bring that along?"

And she had looked fondly at the plant with its dark green leaves and tiny little pink and white buds waiting to bloom into perfectly beautiful blossoms and said placidly, "This child here is my friend too."

He had accepted the plant readily and even offered to water it for her every morning, but she smiled and said it was her responsibility to do it herself, so every morning, she fed it water and it blossomed with its delicate blooms.

She was always sad when its few blooms, although each individual one was a thing of beauty, started fading and withering. Even though she knew it was inevitable, she was always a little wistful about it, but Raye would laugh and feed it more chemical fertilizers he had brought back until it flowered more than ever again.

Moving in with him as housemates had been a bit of a hassle, and some of his neighbors were gossiping about it almost everyday, none too discretely in fact, since one didn't have to be an FBI agent or a former FBI agent to discover them vapidly discussing how the young, friendly handsome neighbor next door had brought home a very pretty, equally young girl who unfortunately wasn't quite as friendly as him.

That was true actually, Naomi didn't really like to speak with his neighbors although she got along generally well with most of them, just in case they started thinking funny things which she wasn't keen for them to think about.

The neighbors would sit and wait for their children to come home from school, and one would say, "Ah, that girl, what's her name? Naomi? Right, that one, she's pretty enough, but she's the cold sort."

"Nah," the lady she always met at the market would butt in abruptly, "She's not cold, she's just shy, and you should see her smile at you, makes me want to write songs about dolphins and sing praises about the sun and things like that."

"How'd you know?" another that amused her by always piggybacking the children everywhere retorted, "You mean she smiles at you?"

The market-neighbor nodded vigorously, "Yeah, but you got to get to know her first, or she's quite, like you say, maybe cold?"

"Ooh, then Elliot Turner must have been a real charmer when it came to her," the first one said conspiratorially.

"You don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that he already is," another middle-aged man interrupted excitedly, "He's a mixed, anyone can see that, but he's young and good-looking, and he's income is good, he works at the bank doesn't he? And then he's also very friendly, the sort you can't help liking at first sight."

"Hey, don't start getting queer on me," the first lady warned her husband, "I can't tell our Madison and Marguerite that their father knows how to look out for good catches that are male."

"I'm not a queer," the male protested, "Besides, our daughters need a father who can look out for good catches on their behalf, don't they?"

And then there was amused laughter everywhere and one would say curiously, "So they are together, aren't they?"

And the laughter would pause very suddenly, and someone would reply, "Oh, we're not too sure, since she said she was working at another nearby bank which she does go to, we see her when she meets us every morning and greets us, you know the Japanese are polite and everything."

"And the walls are thin, we all know that, so you can hear when Madison doesn't do her homework and gets scolded, that sort of thing" another jumped in eagerly, "but you don't hear any sounds coming from Elliot Turner's apartment, and then they sleep at different times since there are always two lights that turn off at different times."

Listening nearby, Naomi Misora didn't know whether to yell in exasperation at the gossipy neighbors even though they were quite friendly and she genuinely like their happy-go-lucky nature, or to laugh at their detailed synopsis of whether she and Raye had anything funny going on.

Then she pricked up her ears again and heard someone else commenting, "And the last two lights go off at least an hour apart. So nobody knows if they are together or he's just renting out his house to someone who looks qualified to be his other half. I still think she is in case anyone wants to bet with me."

"So they aren't together then," one wisely concluded, "Or the lights, wait, the light, if they are really together, would go off at the same time."

Well hidden in a corner, she wanted to shake her head in more exasperation as a blush crept upon her cheeks, and she prayed that wouldn't discover her eavesdropping on them.

If this was Japan, she'd understand, since neighbors tended to discuss everything and anything, but this was America for goodness' sake! Weren't the people supposed to be the heck-care, do-whatever-you-want-we-don't-care-a-hoot sort?

Then she realised that all over the world, all neighbors were probably the same, and she had to laugh in spite of the slight irritation she felt at Raye and her being the subject of idle gossip.

At least they weren't thinking anything funny, she decided in a relieved manner, then she would have sneaked off, quite forgetting that she had came down to collect the letters, but she had been delayed listening to the other's gossip about them, and Raye had arrived home and found nobody there.

So he had called around the house and when he didn't find her, he had assumed she had gone down to do something, and he had assumed correctly. So now, he saw her crouching in a weird position by the wall corner while he spotted the neighbors not too far off discussing something he couldn't hear too well from where he was standing, so he eagerly moved over to her and called out loudly, "Naomi!"

Then she leapt up, her eyes sharp and keen in a defensive manner like she had been drilled to do in the FBI, and the neighbors were jumping up too, but in a more ungraceful manner, and they were staring as he strode towards them while hauling her out by the hand.

"You were there?" gaped one of them whole the others looked terribly awkward.

"Not for long," she couldn't help grinning, "But long enough."

Raye looked at them and instantly guessed what had been going on, so he sighed and loosened his tie with his free hand and everyone suddenly realised that he was holding her hand, and they, including Naomi, stared in surprise.

"Alright you lot," he said cheerfully and quite unabashedly, "This is Misora Naomi who some of you may have met a week ago. Sorry I never introduced her as my housemate. She's a responsibly girl though, she pays half the rent as my housemate, never shirks the bills, that sort of thing. And I supposed you were wondering if we were together."

"Yeah," one started to say, but her husband elbowed her very swiftly and said quickly, "Ah, just thinking that you too look like really good friends, so the conversation kind of led up there."

She looked at him with dancing jet eyes and then turned to the neighbors and bowed very humbly, her long hair swinging over her shoulder, and then she straightened up and said mildly, "Sorry I couldn't introduce myself to all of you properly the last time. I'm Misora Naomi, pleased to meet all of you; I will have to trouble you all in the future."

They were all beaming, quite enamored by her, and Raye noted with some amusement that they looked ready to fight anyone who treated her badly, and he wasn't too surprised since she had the rare quality that made him want to do that upon meeting her as well.

"Just so you know," he said nonchalantly, "She'll be living here for about three more months, and then we'll be going off to Japan for a week."

"Why?" one of them gasped while the others looked dumbstruck.

"Oh," she cut in smoothly, "I thought I'd bring Elliot back to see my parents before we get married."

"So you are together then!" one cried, hopping excitedly up and down on her foot while the others whispered, "I knew it, I should have bet something on that."

Raye nodded graciously and would have said something if she didn't continue quickly, "Ah, but we're still housemates now, no funny things like you were imagining earlier on."

And she smiled to show she wasn't upset about their idle speculations, and they stared in silence at how lovely she was when her eyes lighted up and her lips curved upwards to show an unexpected dimple. And all of them were thinking, "Damn, I need to write a song about dolphins and the sun."

Then Raye decided they had enough as the school bus pulled up and all their children ran down to meet their parents, so he pulled her away laughing merrily and got into the house to eat because he said he was starving.

And Naomi Misora was perfectly happy waking up early like she had always done to make breakfast and move quietly into his bedroom and suddenly pull open all the blinds where blinding sunlight would shoot in straight into his eyes.

She would have hated to be awoken like that, but Raye wasn't a light sleeper like her, he needed much more to get him up and out of bed, and he had instructed her to do as she now did every morning.

At first he'd open his eyes, startled, his lips parted in surprise, and then he'd see her standing over him, the first thing he ever saw in the morning, and then he'd smile and try to kiss her but she never let him until he had washed up first, or they'd be stuck there and he'd be late for work.

So she would scurry off into the dining room and wait until he moved out in his work clothes, holding his coat like he always did over his arm, and then he'd flip it neatly over his chair and she'd finally allow him to kiss her and eat breakfast with him.

Then they'd leave for work together, he always turned left, and she always turned right, but she would work at the bank and return home about an hour earlier than he usually did, just sufficiently early to make dinner and wait for him to return.

And Naomi Misora grew used to waiting for him while reading or dozing in the couch by the corner until the room was bathed in orange and pinks and blood-reds as the sun set, and then she'd hear the key into the door hole slide in and turn, and she would rush excitedly to the door like a puppy to embrace him, and in this way, she would be the first thing he saw when he came home.

So three months passed like that without much of a warning, and one evening, all their bags were packed and her potted plant stood in the corner, lush and green as ever, and she would hand it to a new colleague and friend she had made at her new job to water every evening on her behalf.

They ate dinner together as always, and she sailed into the shower since it was her turn to bathe first that night, they always rearranged the order every night. And when she stepped out in an oversized shirt and some ratty old shorts she always wore as pajamas, he looked up from some documents he had taken out to read after dinner while he waited for her to finish bathing ad said mock-appreciatively, "Nice dress you got there."

She threw a pillow at him in revenge but he caught it with so much ease and so little effort that she sighed and would have turned into her bedroom had he not moved swiftly to her, grabbing a comb from a nearby stand and running it gently through her long dark hair.

But even after he finished untangling the dark strands and smoothening it out so that it fell softly over her shoulders, she refused to let him hug her and commanded playfully, "You're dirty, go bathe and go to sleep, our flight's early in the morning, so no staying up to play cards."

"That's because you're always losing and having to admit defeat," he retorted quickly, "And you said you would play cards with me yesterday to prove you weren't a sore loser."

And for a minute, she thought he was going to pout, but Raye never did things like that, he was always serious even though he had a killer sense of humor and appreciated jokes thrown his way, and he snickered, grabbed his towel and went on his way.

So she headed off to her own bedroom and turned off for an early night, but her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was that she had to be possibly the happiest person on earth right at that moment.

But she didn't know that the gears of fate had already stated moving, and that Raye's superior was sighing at that point as he flipped threw some official documents in his own house and started ticking off names.

And she didn't know that Raye telling his superior that he wanted to resign soon had been a mistake, since Raye Penber was assigned someone who was supposedly harmless so he could finish his job early and go home quickly to get married.

Because Naomi Misora and Raye Penber didn't know that the last name the superior assigned to the soon-resigning Raye Penber wasn't a harmless person's name at all like what they'd thought initially, since the person Raye Penber was assigned to was none other than Yagami Light.

* * *

Author's note:

Ah, another warning.

Don't blame me for it, I just do it to remind myself because I'm quite absent-minded and could be tempted to make this end in an alternate way which is no good if you think about what eventually happens in the manga.

And for those who have watched the movie for Death Note 1, it's not the same. I based the story on the ending Naomi Misora and Raye Penber had in the manga, so no gun action thing and no Shiori which I don't really like anyway. She kinda got tiresome, so I said "Yahoo" when she got shot.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note or their characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 10

The first thing they did when they checked into a hotel was to let Raye Penber confidently sign his initials; of course, those were the initials of the name the FBI had assigned him.

Misora Naomi was guarding the bags while he did this, but she could assess him enough to see that he had improved to the level of perfection compared to the first time when she had seen him write 'Elliot Turner' on the logbook she had handed him when she was only sixteen. He had been trained very well, and if he was indeed the Raye she knew, he would have learnt very quickly.

And then he put down the pen and left to help her with the bags, and even though men were generally supposed to carry things for the women, she picked up one too and hoisted it expertly onto her shoulder so he could manage the other. He grinned boyishly at her, he loved her independence and strength she always proved she had, all because the vulnerable side she allowed only him to see became more lovable when she chose to show it, or rather, when he forced her to show it to him.

The room they had been allocated was not very large, perhaps because Japan was quite cramped and had a lack of space in general unlike America which both of them had been used to for most of their life.

But neither of them minded since it was cozy and they would only be there for a week or so, apparently, Raye had let on that he was trailing somebody as a suspect for an international case L had gotten the FBI to help on. And she would have asked why L needed the FBI if she hadn't remembered that she had already left the FBI and only wanted to stay close to Raye.

One thing Naomi Misora liked about the room in the hotel was its ambience, since from the living room, she could see the sunset very clearly, and the room would be bathed and swathed in glorious reds and pink with orange accents every day, almost the same way she had waited for Raye to get back from work. She would stretch out her hands in the rays and let them glow orange sometimes, and then she would sigh and feel like a fool for being so happy that he would arrive home soon from his work to be with her.

In the day, Raye trailed someone she wasn't too sure about; he had been assigned to trail someone very young and harmless, younger than both of them, which had been an initial surprise when he had told her over dinner.

And she might have questioned why L had sent his team to trail such a seemingly harmless character if Raye hadn't put down his chopsticks, they'd been using that ever since they got back to Japan, and made her tell him what she had been doing while he was away.

So Naomi Misora would tell him how she hung around the area relaxing by strolling around in the little markets or going to see her parents, and she had informed that she had been dating someone for eight years now, and they'd been shocked to realize that she had a boyfriend all this while but never said anything. Oh, but she had reassured them that he had been away for five years, so it was as good as three.

Raye had snorted at this and said indignantly, "Hey, that's not fair to me, I had to go away or I wouldn't have if I even had a choice!"

And she laughed and said in reply, "I know, just that I had to convince my parents we weren't dating for too long in case they started thinking funny things which we obviously haven't done."

He raised an eyebrow at her as he stirred his soup idly around to watch the miso rise up like buttercup-colored clouds at the bottom to blur the once clear liquid and said in jest, "Isn't that better? Then they'll demand that I be a man and do the right thing, that is, marry you."

"Don't be silly," she said mildly, "they'd be horrified if you allowed them to think that way, and then they'd be none too fond of you and where'd that leave us?"

And Raye laughed again and drank his soup, and then he said very seriously, "Do you ever regret leaving the FBI?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, "But leaving the FBI for you, no. Because you'll be doing the same thing I did for you, but this time it's for my sake, and I know you'll do as I did for you without any hesitation because you know it's for our best interests."

He nodded in agreement and paused, then he said quietly, so quietly she almost couldn't hear, "But I never wanted you to join the FBI from the start, even when I said I thought you'd be good there, and of course you are, but I wish you never joined form the start."

"Why?" she asked, bewildered, since he had agreed that she'd rise up there in the FBI's ranks quickly, and she had proven both of them right.

"Because the FBI teaches a person to be calculating and never to trust anyone at any time," he said, his eyes guarded, and she was struck by how truthful his words were, and then he sighed and continued, "But if you remain the way you are now then of course it doesn't quite prove true, since you aren't exactly a paranoid creep either."

"I will stay like this," she insisted even though she knew she had nothing to prove, she only wanted to tell him she'd do anything for him, "I'm always the way I am when you're here, don't go thinking silly things like that when I've always been like that even when I was with the FBI."

"My mistake," he said a bit more cheerfully, then she smiled briefly at him and they resumed their dinner.

"So what did you tell your parents about me?" he continued lightly as he gazed at her with his grey eyes she loved to look at to feel sure of what he meant to her.

"Nothing much," she answered thoughtfully," Just that you were a Chinese- American, oh, they were horrified they were, my mum gasped, "Chimera?" and then my dad asked, what kind of job is he holding, and I said banker because that's your cover job, right? And then they asked how old you were, and maybe that was the other thing they approved of other than the job I told them you were doing. And they asked if you were good looking, I said very, because you are, even if I hate admitting it, and then they gave me the thumbs-up and asked me to invite you over for dinner in two days' time."

"So soon?" he cried anxiously, looking so worried that she wanted to laugh.

"Don't worry," she said in a reassured way even though that she had shared his reaction initially, "I haven't seen my parents for eleven years except through the occasional photograph they send over with their letters, but they're nice people, quite easy going, you know how most Japanese are anyway. And I told them you don't smoke which my dad approves of since so many people smoke nowadays; he's quite horrified by it actually, and he said you already scored brownie points by not smoking."

"That doesn't warrant an instant liking for the man who's stolen their precious daughter," he said in a sort of melancholic way while laying out a sad-looking, miso-soaked piece of seaweed on his rice as if to sun it.

"Ah, by the way," she diverted him, "My mother asked how to write your name in Chinese characters, I said that I think your name is written with the same character as the one to be written as lightning, am I correct?"

"Yeah," he said, still looking quite glum, "My mother chose it, so obviously I have this Chinese thing going, and my dad did the whole English write-over so people in America and Britain could pronounce it, and I took my mother's name because my dad didn't want my mother's name to die out even if it was a made-up name she used when she came over to America. She didn't have any sibling, that's why."

Then he realised she was trying to change the topic and said incredulously, "But that's not the point! How am I going to make them like me in two days' time? You left out the most crucial bits for me to do myself, you evil little sneak!"

"Oh," she grinned, "I thought I'd let you show how much of a man you were while I took a backseat, it's quite obvious who wears the pants in this relationship, isn't it?"

"Right", he grumbled, "But it's terrible trying to follow a kid around and pray he doesn't realize I'm sneaking behind him while I'm looking pout for anything suspicious he's doing and thinking to myself that I want to be getting back to you so we can start planning to have a kid of our own."

She ignored the hint he had thrown at her about having children, she didn't want more than two unlike him, and said curiously, "You're trailing a kid?"

He looked at her with suddenly serious eyes and said, "The person I'm trailing isn't really a kid, more of like, a teenager, and don't worry. He hasn't done anything suspicious, and I doubt he will."

"I don't know," she interrupted, her nerves suddenly rattled, "I doubt L would have brought in the FBI to investigate someone deemed as a non-suspect, it really isn't his style."

"I thought so too," Raye agreed hesitantly, his eyes guarded, "But a lot of what I'm doing is unclear, it's a new case, top-secret, and if you weren't here to check for bugs everyday, Id be doing it myself."

She recalled how she had spent an hour making a sweep of anything in their hotel room like the way he had instructed her to do on his behalf for the last two days, and she hadn't found anything. But the fact that he had asked her to do it meant that the case was probably not as simple as he had been told it was, and he was tight-lipped about it since he was still working for the FBI and he couldn't start being like a loose cannon at this stage.

"So L sends FBI agents to trail harmless people," she thought silently, "And Raye trails a teenager who doesn't do anything suspicious. Does that mean L doesn't trust the police here, so that's why he's getting the FBI? Does that mean that the police here are hiding someone which makes L force himself to request for FBI's assistance? So does that mean everyone is a suspect if they are related to the police, which is why they must trail even teenagers, possibly family members of the police themselves?"

But Raye looked at her with knowing eyes, and she had to shake off all her thoughts and smile and say, "Enough of those things, have you thought of what you might say to my parents?"

"I did a long time ago," he joked but she hit him on his hand resting on the table, and said mock-sternly, "No, I mean, really. I think we have to leave out the arguing bits because they still don't know I can mouth-off quite well."

"Ah," he said wisely like an old sage, "I can threaten you with that next time."

"That's not fair," she protested, glaring at him, "You haven't done anything that I can use to threaten you with at all!"

"True," he grinned, "We haven't done anything other than kiss and maybe curse at each other, so you can forget about ratting off about me to your parents."

And she knew she was defeated, so she just sighed and they ate with a sort of contented air that made her feel like she belonged somewhere and didn't have to pretend to be something else for the rest of her life.

But she again, didn't know many things. The rest of her life consisted of days that were numbered, and the more frightening thing was that they were numbered because of the person she loved with all her heart. And while the countdown to the number of days she had to live was starting, his had already begun the minute they had arrived in Japan, and his days were similarly numbered like Misora Naomi precisely because of the person he loved the most, that is, her.

And when Yagami Light knew Raye Penber had somebody he cared for more than himself, Raye Penber was a lost case.

* * *

Author's note:

I hope you liked the story so far even if the chapters end in a sort of warning. I felt it was necessary more than anything else.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note or the characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 11 

The next day was a very strange day. When Naomi Misora woke up in the morning, she felt like she was lost in some strange maze, and while the single bed she slept in was still warm, the other bed next to hers which he crept into at night was cold, which meant that he had been awake and had gotten up a long time ago.

So she had moved swiftly around but concluded that he had left quite early in the morning, which had been strange since she hadn't heard the person in the bed some distance away from hers stir and get up.

She had always been a light sleeper, she could wake very easily if she heard Raye get up from his own bed about a meter away from hers, an then she'd wake up too and know he was leaving for work. Maybe she had been tired from reading last night, so much so that she hadn't woken up when he did.

The hotel receptionist had been surprised that they'd asked for two single beds although it was the same room, but then they hadn't bothered explaining anything that she didn't want him to spend extra on another separate room for her since they were staying only a week.

And now, he had left for work, so she freshened up and spent the rest of the day walking around town. And she heard disturbing things from people that the criminals all over the world were being hunted down by KIRA, but she had left the FBI three months ago, so she didn't know anything much about the new case the world was taking attention to.

Some school girls who passed by her were eagerly typing on their cell phone pads, and she spotted that it was some message board with a link to some KIRA-website which had sprung up in the hundreds over the last few weeks.

It was madness, she didn't know much about anything, but they said KIRA was here in Japan after L had proved he was, and she had gone and asked a shopkeeper how L had proved that because she was frankly quite curious about it.

And she had been once again, impressed by L's flawless reasoning and logical analyzing, and she knew that she wasn't the only one who was, the shopkeeper had excitedly told her that it was like a battle between two geniuses or something. L was really L, nobody could doubt that even when all they saw was a screen with an alphabet she had come to respect ad admire.

Then when she got home, she erased all the random things she had heard that day and put them out of her mind, simply because she knew Raye was coming back soon and she wanted to prepare dinner for him with the things she'd bought earlier. And then she sat down to read and waited for him eagerly.

When she heard the familiar click of the door, she was a little startled but then she smiled as he emerged and she said gently, "Welcome home."

"I'm back," he said in a weary voice while sighing, and she knew it wasn't just the tiring work, because he looked strangely disturbed and unsettled even though she knew he was trying to hide it, and she had led him to the couch and asked concernedly, "What's the matter?"

"That was a big sigh," she said, trying not feel a little strange that he was behaving like this, "Did something happen, Raye?"

Raye would have lied and said he was just tired, but then he knew better than to deceive her and say it was just him being weary when she already knew something was wrong. So he shifted to another plan to make her stay out of it and prayed it would work. But first, he had to tell her what had happened that day.

"Yeah," he said in an effort to reassure her although he was very unsettled himself, and he forced himself to loosen his tie like he would have done normally.

"I happened to get mixed up in a busjacking today," he said cautiously while she tried to busy herself with making tea, but then she stopped abruptly and echoed in surprise, "Busjacking?"

She waited patiently, knowing he would speak when he was ready, and then he looked up at her with his eyes guarded as they always were when he felt unsure of himself and then he said cautiously, "A man who robbed a bank two days ago hijacked a bus."

And Raye knew she was regarding him with watchful eyes, so he swept away the strange sense of incongruity and forced himself to casually add, "Seems like Japan's becoming a dangerous country too."

"And you just happened to be on that particular bus?" she said as calmly as she could even though her heart had started pounding furiously and there was a roar in her ears like a waterfall's. Her hands holding the spoon were trembling but he couldn't see anything, so there was something to be thankful about at least.

Keep calm, she told herself, keep calm.

"Yeah," he began hesitantly, not sure if telling her would be a breach of silence or worse still to him, make her worried, "But he just jumped off in the end and got hit by a car."

Her heart jumped abeat for a minute, but she was glad again that all he could see was her back, becauseher mind was moving quickly and she felt terribly frightened suddenly, and the worse thing was she didn't even know why.

"Did he die?" she said very emotionlessly although her eyes were frightened and her lips were slightly parted in shock.

"Probably," he said, looking down at an interesting spot on his lap, hearing the screech of the wheels and the sickening crunch in his head again, and he knew what he said wouldn't be accurate enough to take the next step he had planned, so he hastily added, "I didn't have time to make sure though."

Her hands had stopped trembling but the hair behind her neck was standing up, a sure sign that something was horribly wrong. Then she tried to breathe properly and her hands twitched again. But she forced them to be steady as she brought the tea to him on a tray, and then she couldn't pretend nothing was wrong and said softly, "Raye, do you really think that was a coincidence?"

Not noticing, or rather, pretending not to notice the wild look in her eyes, Raye forced a look od surprise on his own face and asked interestedly, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she interrupted, trying to look at him and not feel impatient that he wasn't understanding her, "You were on that bus because you were investigating someone, right?"

"And a crminal apparently died," she continued, not noticing the hardened expression in his eyes and the flash of pain in them.

Naomi went on to say, "And that could mean-,"

He knew what she was going to say,he had thought of it a long time ago, and it was the right time now to put an end to it all.

"Hey," he cut in brusquely, "You were a great FBI agent once, but now you're just my fiancee."

And to jam the rake in more to be sure she would drop it, he added harshly, "You're not an FBI agent anymore!'

Raye had looked at her with guarded eyes and willed himself not to say "I thought so," when she had tried to tell him of her suspicions even though he knew what he had said might start an argument. It was time to put his own plan into action; he'd do what he had to make her stay out of this at all costs.

So he had no choice but to make her think he was a foolish idiot, if it would make her cease worrying about him and maybe keep her uninvolved with anything. And then Raye might be able to protect her then, even if he didn't know what he was fighting to protect her from. He really didn't know.

But Raye Penber's instincts were never wrong, he knew something was amiss, and if he didn't make her stay away from the case he was handling, she'd get involved and he might lose her to something he didn't know how to identify as an enemy.

So Raye gritted his teeth to calm himself down so he wouldn't take her into his arms and admit that he had thought of the day's incidents in just the way she had done, although he knew it was too much of a coincidence like she had said so herself.

There were two choices he could make now, either be truthful and say, "Exactly what I thought," and have her worrying for him and maybe going as far as to rejoin the FBI to investigate what he had gone through today, or he could do as he was about to do now and instead say sternly, "Don't say that, it's just a coincidence."

There, he had done it. Now maybe she would get angry with him for being so idiotic like he meant for her to think he was, and then she'd accept whatever he said because Naomi always wanted a form of confirmation that her suspicions were correct. If she didn't get it, she always second-guessed herself.

Well, he wouldn't give her the confirmation she wanted now, maybe that way she'd drop the same suspicions he had and stay out of whatever he was going.

She looked at him with cold fury in her eyes and inhaled a little heavily, hearing him say as harshly as before, "And you promised not to say anything about the KIRA case or do anything dangerous."

And Naomi was so angry with him that she had to actually put down the two steaming cups of tea and take a seat herself, turning away so that she wouldn't give in to the urge to punch him for saying such things to her. And Raye knew he had sucessfully transferred her from one mode to anger, and he morosely congratulated himself on getting her furious with him.But he had no choice, he wanted her to stay out of it.

"I brought you here to meet your parents who live here," he continued steadily, not quite looking at her.

She heard something change in his voice and knew she couldn't stay angry at him even when he had been so cruel in hiswords, and she sighed as she repeated, "I know, Raye."

He still had something lost in hisexpression, and her heart melted and she found herself saying, "It's a habit, I'm sorry."

And Raye wanted to take back everything he had said because he knew he had hurt her, but he kept a leash on his words and forced himself to continue what he promised he'd finish, and so he looked ather and said softly, "I'm sorry too. But don't worry about it so much."

"Bollocks," his mind screeched, but he continued so he wouldn't be tempted to tell her he had thought the same way as she did and then she'd worry about him.

Raye had done the unthinkable, to insult her intelligence and diminish the time she'd spent in the FBI as one of the most gifted agents, but then he had done it although he had hated to do so.

He had made himself look like some awful chauvinistic person he really wasn't and maybe she had realised that and was so surprised at this side of that she had actually left it where it was. After all, he hadn't shown that he had possessed anything related to a chauvinistic side before. They both knew it, and he had used it to silence her.

Then he swept his mind clean from all the fearful doubts the way he would have cleaned a blackboard with chalk writings on it and smiled briefly as if to comfort her, although it was more for his own sake, and then he said in a reassuring voice, "But don't worry, you won't think like that anymore once we get married and have a family. You'll be so busy that you'll forget you were an agent."

And that was for his sake too, he never wanted to see her with her eyes cold and guarded where she thought only of catching criminals and not of him. He was selfish, but then he needed her more than she realised he did. And that was dangerous in itself.

Naomi looked at him,still not convinced that he was really as pigheaded as he was being, but then she heard the warmth in his voice when he said gently, "There won't be time for old habits to pop up."

And that mattered more to her than anything else, and she smiled and let him drink the last of the tea and take her in his arms.

Then she settled comfortably into his arms although they both knew that her arms were tighter around him than usual, and he wrapped his arms around her in the same manner and she felt a little more comforted.

But they both knew something was wrong although he pretended not to notice just so she wouldn't worry about him, and Misora Naomi had been so deeply in love that she hadn't noticed he was being an idiot just to try and protect her.

"Enough of all of that" he said suddenly, pulling her up to him so their eyes met, jet against grey, "Think of a way for me to make a good impression on your father!"

Then she laughed wholeheartedly and kissed him, trying to forget the days' disturbing events and how suddenly he'd become so critical of her.

Maybe he was just unsettled, she thought nervously, that's why he was being so unforgiving towards the way she questioned the way he had handled himself today, and maybe that's why he was so abrupt with her when she tried to tell him something was amiss. Maybe it was just her being paranoid, Raye would know if something was wrong.

But Naomi Misora didn't know that he already knew something was amiss but he was pretending that nothing was, all because he wanted her to stay away from it all so he could protect her.

If she had known, she might have told him that she didn't care about anything anymore, she just wanted him to quickly fly back to America with her and quit the bloody FBI and maybe they'd lead normal lives in bliss after that. Forget about resigning properly with the bloody paycheck too, his life was worth more than that to her.

That was undoubtedly what she would have done if she had realised that her own suspicions could have been confirmed with Raye's own suspicions, but she didn't because he didn't admit that to her in a single bid to protect her.

And even if she knew that her suspicions were the same as his and they had both realised he wasn't safe after he had blown his cover, neither of them could have still saved him. There were simply two reasons for this.

Firstly, Raye Penber loved Naomi Misora more than anything else, and he treasured her life above his. Therefore, he would have ignored everything she said even though he felt the same way about the day's events too, all just to make her reassured and not worry about him simply because he loved her too much to confirm that he was in danger for blowing his cover. That was what he did. And he didn't know his need to love and protect her got him killed.

Secondly, even if they fled the country and he quit the FBI without any notice and hid in another part of the world where nobody knew who he was; he'd still be dead eventually.

Because Yagami Light had already obtained the memory of Raye's handsome, chiseled face with its startling grey eyes, and more importantly, Yagami Light had already obtained the name Raye Penber.

* * *

Author's note: 

Ah, this is where the manga bit comes in.

We all know what happens next, and it won't be very detailed in dialogue, more of the perspective of Raye Penber and Naomi Misora.

Please continue to R&R!


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note or the characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 12

That very night of the day when Raye had blown his cover, Misora Naomi woke up panting and sweating because she had a nightmare. And the morning to come was December the 27th, in the days to come when she woke up with tears streaming down her face, Naomi could still rememeber everything.

She couldn't remember what she had dreamt of that night before December the twenty-seventh, just that it terrified her, and she had been prepared to quietly cry herself to sleep if something hadn't slipped next to her under her bed covers and strong arms hadn't caught her and held her close.

When Raye moved swiftly over from his own bed to hold her and make sure she was safe, she had been comforted and had hugged him back, so terribly relieved to feel his presence that she hadn't had time to feel embarrassed for appearing to be so weak and pathetic..

Then she had curled up in his arms with her own around him as he slipped next to her in the middle of the night and she had allowed herself to be comforted by his warmth and had drifted slowly back to sleep.

And Raye hadn't slept that night but had just held her close, unable to fall asleep, his mind filled with thoughts and doubts as he tried to fit piece after piece of the puzzle together but couldn't find the crucial link like her. And he eventually had to get up and close the assignment he had been given for last day, and he was glad it was his last so he could just go and take her away where they'd be free to be happy for the rest of their lives.

Or so he thought.

She had tired herself out from the nightmare that she had, so she didn't notice when the broad chest she had used as a pillow was replaced by a real pillow and the covers tucked her in securely in replacement of his arms.

But she heard some noises eventually and had woken up in a panic, then she'd rushed to the kitchen and seen him preparing breakfast, and then she had sighed in relief, quickly freshened up and rushed back to the dining room so she could send him off for the last day of work, and then he'd return and be with her forever.

That was what she had thought.

He had been very kind, he never mentioned anything about the nightmare she had or the way she had been so weak and vulnerable when he had realised she was having a nightmare and woken up to go to her and hold her.

But that morning, when she kissed him before he went to work, his arms were tighter around her than they'd ever been, but he eventually had to let go and tear himself away, but then she'd cheerfully promised him that she would make something special for dinner to celebrate his last day at work, and then he'd grinned and said he'd come back to her before she knew it.

That was what both of them had believed.

And then he left for the station, but then, as he stepped passed a shop, someone had whispered from behind him, "Raye Penber."

That had got his attention alright, nobody had addressed him as such with the exception of Naomi for the last five years.

He wanted to look around to see who it was, but then the person behind him whispered swiftly, "If you turn around, I'll kill you."

Raye paused, thinking what kind of weapon the person behind might possibly be carrying, but then the next words whispered made his blood run coldin his very veins.

"I'm Kira."

Raye's heart had stopped for a split-second and he had wanted to turn around to see who it was instinctively, the voice had been terribly familiar, but he couldn't jolly well reach for his gun either, something told him he'd be dead if he did. And through the daze where the crowds around seemed to vanish, the person behind him whispered, "The minute you turn around or reach into your pocket, I'll kill you."

His eyes were widened, the pupils stretched far apart, and he thought desperately, "No, that's impossible!"

And the voice was so familiar, and yet he couldn't place where he had heard it and Raye wanted to kick himself for not being able to identify anything.

And he had been thinking to himself that the person behind him could have simply been a prankster or some sodding bastard out to play tricks on him, but then the person behind had seemed to read his thoughts as he hissed, "I'll kill someone to prove I am Kira. You see that person standing by the coffee shop there? I'll kill the man with glasses."

"I-Impossible!" he cried in shock, and Raye's heart had pounded painfully as he whispered in agony, 'No, stop", but then the man being singled out by the person, no, monster behind him suddenly cltuched his chest in cruciating pain and fell to the floor where they both knew he would never rise.

And the person said quietly although the triumph in his voice was louder than anything, "I figured you wouldn't believe me unlessI killed someone in front of you, so it couldn't be helped."

His mind was filled with rage now, as if he had forced the man to die, and he wanted to kill whoever who was behind him, but then the voice continued mockingly, "But he was a serial rapist who got off scot-free because of the lack of evidence which meant the police couldn't prosecute him. He was a menace to society and deserved judgement. I believe you're already heard from L and know that I can't kill without a face."

People were staring in shock like Raye, and then they ran around the fallen man screaming for help, but Raye knew it was useless, and his heart thumped painfully.

"But that means," the voice said softly, "that I can kill everyone I can see here. Any requests? I'll kill them all for you."

And Raye was staring in horror as they flipped over the dead man and saw the silent scream etched out on the face and the lifeless limbs stretched out in a strange way.

He forced his tongue loose and exclaimed,"S-stop it, I'll believe you're Kira."

But the voice went on mercilessly, "But for you, it must be even more agonising to have someone you hold dear be killed instead of someone here."

His breath was jerky now, and he heard the voice behind him whisper, "You should assume the person is being held hostage now."

And he wanted to scream in rage and take out his gun and shoot the person behind him, he wanted to kill him for trying to hurt Naomi even though he wasn't sure if she was still safe, and he wanted to weep with anguish for being so helpless. But he couldn't. He still had a chance to save both of them, he'd do it if it meant broadening the chances of getting back and seeing her smiling at him and laughing for him and feeling her soft arms entwined around his back.

"That's right," the voice behind him whispered mockingly, "I researched you," and he was shocked to hear it was so calm that it could have been telling him about the weather instead.

"And if you do anything that varies even slightly from what I tell you, I'll kill everyone here and your family."

He didn't want to hear anymore about how the person who had just died deserved it for committing the crime the monster behind him was telling him about now, people were rushing to help the already dead man, but Raye was forced to walk on, still trying to curb the nausea he felt rise up in him and almost overpower him when Kira, he now truly believed the monster behind him was Kira whispered almost happily, "And of course, you."

And Raye had obeyed him, taken out the computer he used for work when he had gotten onto a train, along with the file the demon behind him had given, and also with the walkie talkie that could have been a toy but was being put to such lethal purpose that Raye was filled with a deep loathing and rage. And he knew he was being watched, he didn't need the demon to tell him that he was nearby keeping an eye on him.

He tried to glance around to see if someone was speaking into little chips or talking to themselves but the person had planned it well, Raye was forced to keep his eyes on one spot in front of him. He was filled with so much helpless rage that he would have killed Kira if he had known which one it was, but he couldn't and that made him loathe his helplessness even more.

"Don't forget I can kill you at anytime." the voice had warned, but Raye hadn't cared about his own life, he only wanted Naomi safe.

Then he had been forced, through instructions of the walkie talkie and the bastard issuing them, to take out the file he'd been passed, open his laptop and see the names, not aliases of his superior and his team members in a mail he had just received while he sat in a corner seat near the door. And then he had been forced to reveal that there were four FBI teams, all just to protect her, and he subsequently had to open a file with the names of all the agents and their pictures. He might have questioned how it had been sent so quickly to his folder if he hadn't been desperate to save Naomi.

"Be safe," he prayed desperately, "Be safe."

Then he had done as he had been ordered too, still cursing his helplessness, as he copied down the names onto a piece of white paper slipped onto another piece with grids cut out for him to fill the names of everyone onto it in the ubiquitous slots while looking carefully at their faces.

He was bewildered, not quite knowing what Kira wanted, not quite caring what he was doing, thinking that it was just some ploy to hunt them down later. Maybe he just wanted their names, and he as using Raye to get them down for him. Raye could have refused, but he chose to be selfish and chose to save Naomi first, he knew that, but he needed to be selfish like that if he wanted to protect her.

He needed her to be safe for him, if she wasn't then he didn't know what else he'd do without her.

So when he was told he was free to go back after riding without moving for thirty minutes and after he had put the envelope in a place in the luggage rack, Raye had been filled with an innocent joy that he'd go home and see her safe and sound. And he'd thought that he would see her waiting for him while bathed in the colors of the sunset he had grown accustomed to see her in.

The voice was so familiar, but Raye just couldn't recall whose face it belonged to. And he didn't know there were people dying because he had cared so much about one woman that he had allowed himself to be used just to save her.

And as he stepped off, his mind still plagued with doubts but fixated on the thought of seeing Misora Naomi, he had felt a knife stab through his heart and his mind thrown into shock as he had an attack right there and then and collapsed on the train's station's floor, twisting in agony.

People in the train were screaming or staring in horror as they saw a young, handsome man twisting in agony on the floor, they knew he was having a heart attack, but then the train started to move off, driven by its automatic system, and nobody could have rushed out except Yagami Light who was standing nearest to the doors and watching Raye Penber die.

But Yagami Light didn't rush out to try and help, he knew it was useless, and that was what made his face light up with a terrible ecstasy as he slipped down his hood and showed his face to Raye Penber.

And Raye Penber struggled through the insane pain his body was going through as his heart went into seizure and he saw Yagami Light's handsome face, its youthful innocence marred by the twisted cruelty it displayed as the train doors closed and saw him saying triumphantly, "Goodbye, Raye Penber."

And his last thought was that he'd been a fool and he thought he saw her standing in the distance, calling out to him and her arms held apart so she could throw them around him as soon as he got to her, and as he tried to struggle on and run towards her, the world around him spun in a mess, and before he could reach her while she called out insistently to him, he was enveloped by darkness and he knew he was lost forever.

That evening, Naomi Misora waited anxiously for Raye to come home to her, and the food she had prepared was waiting on the table, the best meal she had ever made before just to celebrate his last day of work with the FBI.

She had been so happy while she was preparing the meal, humming to herself as she cut the vegetables, and even when she had accidentally cut herself, not a very deep cut though, she hadn't minded seeing the ominous red blood flow out, she had simply washed the cut clean and wrapped it in a plaster and waited for him to come back.

Then the sun had set and she was gazing at the room filled in glorious chunks of colors, thinking that traffic might be bad that day because he would have reached home by that time on a usual day.

And a call had came, and if anybody had been in the room, they would have seen a young woman listen very quietly to what the person on the other end was saying, and the person, if there had been any in the room, would have seen her already pale face growing deathly white as she put down the phone and whispered to herself, "Raye's dead?"

And the person would have seen Naomi Misora's beautiful jet-black eyes, once blank and guarded but lively and bright after she had met Raye Penber, and those same eyes grew dull as a terrible heart-wrenching pain drifted over them as a single, wet tear rolled down her pale cheek.

Then she screamed as she went insane with the pain that shot through her entire being and she collapsed on the floor and she wept and wept until the morning came when she finally picked herself up from where she had fallen.

Then she had stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face, and then put on the dress Raye had given her and went to the local pharmacy with nothing except some money and a blank mind which was mirrored by her eyes.

Her lips were bleeding from where she had bitten them, but she had wiped them clean and now they were almost ash-grey with very little pink left in them.

The shopkeeper didn't comment about her long, tangled black hair and her haunted eyes, or the way her lips were trembling and her skin was deathly white, even though as soon as she had left, he had turned to his assistant and said in jest while laughing cruelly, "She looks like someone she knew just died."

So he sold her a bottle of what she asked for, and then Naomi Misora went back into the hotel, unable to cry a single tear because she had exhausted everything and her eyes would not be able to bring forth tears for quite a while, and then she calmly poured herself a glass of water, got into bed, and promptly downed the entire bottle of sleeping pills she had bought.

Author's note:

Alright, this was downright depressing, now I need to have some chocolate to cheer myself up.

And I wrote this chapter without really seeing how Naomi Misora would have done what she did after she got the call. Because in the anime, what you see is just her reactions, nothing after that and what she did.

I supposed if your fiancé just died, you wouldn't be thinking about revenge straightaway or trying to figure out what happened immediately because a person would be too distraught and not into the right frame or state of mind, no? Of course I don't approve of suicide and that kind of thing though, it's just too depressing.

So why'd I write it then?

Because I wanted an excuse to take more chocolate.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note or the characters. R&R please.

* * *

Chapter 13

And she dreamt of terrible things, that she was in class again and they were asking her what she wanted to be when she grew up, and she was saying happily, "I want to be a housewife."

"Who's wife do you want to be then?" the boy in front of her twisted around to ask her curiously.

And Misora Naomi was trying to describe his dark hair and intelligent grey eyes and the way he always took her in his arms lovingly, and then she suddenly remembered his name and announced proudly, "Raye Penber's!"

And there was raucous laughter all around her, and her classmates were giggling and pointing and her homeroom teacher was sneering and laughing as he shook helplessly and then he said in a terrible voice, "You know what he looks like?"

Not noticing that she was suddenly looking the way she was as an adult instead of a child even when all her classmates were sitting around as thirteen-year olds, she nodded insistently and said, "I think so."

Then they had laughed more and her teacher had ran from behind his desk and dragged out something from behind him to show her while hands pushed her very roughly from her seat so that she had to walk forward unsteadily to see what it was and then she looked down and her eyes widened in horror as she saw Raye, his lifeless body crumpled in a heap, his dark hair tangled and his skin white with a grey-tinge she knew belonged only to the dead, and then his eyes were open and dull, staring at her, staring at her, staring at her.

And Misora Naomi screamed in terror as her teacher laughed and shoved Raye's head forward at her and hands were pushing her face to the corpse's head and her lips met ice-cold ones and she smelt the stench of death all around her, and she screamed but the laughter overpowered her screams and cries.

And she suddenly woke up and saw an unknown face staring at her, bespectacled and very old and wise, and she choked out a weak, "Who are you?"

"Doctor Ishida, the head doctor here" was the calm reply, "The maid found you in the hotel room and called for help before it was too late."

Then she remembered everything, the sunset and the call, the tears and the scream of agony, and then the olive-green dress and the pills she had swallowed, and then she choked out painfully as her hands, strapped to tubes and needles shook, "Why'd you have to save me?"

"Because you need to live for Raye Penber," the doctor replied morosely.

"How'd you know he died?" she sobbed, fully knowing that no tears would leak out, but she still needed to cry because she didn't know how to relieve the pain anymore.

"The hotel tapes up all the conversations as a policy but they say they don't listen to them to protect the privacy of their customers," he said coolly, "But then a maid found you almost dead in your room, and the hotel was afraid they'd be under some form of scandal, so they bought out the last conversation you had using the phone in your room. The hotel did that to prove nobody was in your room and forced you to take sleeping pills, you did it yourself in a bid to commit suicide when you found out Raye Penber was dead."

"But I don't want to stay here," she pleaded, and the doctor felt something melt in his heart. He had seen many of these before in Japan, there were always many youngsters trying to commit suicide because of the high-stress environment they worked in, and in his opinion, they were just strawberries, they looked good but they were easily bruised.

But the young woman in front of him now was different, something in her eyes and the way she fought to speak even thought she was terribly weak told him she wasn't like them. Something had hurt her so badly she had just given up trying to live.

Then he thought of the Raye Penber the recording the hotel had produced had mentioned of, then he thought of the body lying in another block where the autopsy had just been preformed with the subsequent reports they'd submitted to the police, and he was filled with such a strange sense of incongruity that he had to speak.

"Who was Raye Penber to you?" he said carefully.

She glance dup at him and he felt a fresh wave of pity as he saw her eyes haunted by pain once more when she whispered, "My fiancé."

"Did he have a weak heart or anyone in the family who died of a hear attack?" he said very precisely and calmly, although he was thinking how tragic it was that the fine young man had gone and died and left her behind.

"He was always very strong, but his father died of a heart attack." she whispered, her fists clenching and unclenching.

"Ah, so that settles Raye Penber's death." the doctor said quietly, making sure his voice had the crucial note of triumph he knew she would detect and hate him for, "His family might have made him die of a weak heart."

He didn't have the heart to tell her that Raye Penber had been a perfect example of a healthy human, and whether his father had died of a heart attack or not would not have affected him because his body was young and strong and his heart functioning very well even when he had died.

The police had ordered him not to release any information about how Raye Penber had died except to say he had died of a heart attack, nothing else had been said about the FBI agent and the others who had died about the same time as him, and Raye Penber was still being written off as a banker, his death wouldn't be announced on the media or reported in newspapers either.

The police really didn't want more KIRA fanatics out there, and besides, nobody could prove the young FBI agent had been killed by KIRA. His death was under natural circumstances, but both the doctor and Naomi Misora knew it wasn't so.

And then the head doctor watched as the girl before him closed her eyes, her beautiful face marred by sorrow, and he could see that she was clearly thinking hard, and then when she opened it, he saw hatred in those black eyes, and he felt sorry that he had made the decision to taint her heart with wrath and hatred.

When they had carted her to the hospital, he had fought against all odds and time itself to rescue the young girl who would die if he made a single mistake, and when she had woken up and he had seen her hollow eyes, he knew he had had two choices.

One, to tell her that her life was up to her to run now; she could do whatever she wanted. And without a doubt, the beautiful young girl with her haunted eyes and long dark hair would have killed herself properly the next time so that nobody, not even the head doctor, could rescue her.

Two, to write off her fiancé's death as a mere heart attack and tell her that in a casual sort of voice, so that it would fill her heart with hatred. And that was so she'd fight to prove him wrong and avenge the death of Raye Penber by finding out the truth because he knew that she was a fighter. He knew that the heart attack wasn't a natural thing, but the girl in front of him didn't realize that he already knew that, and she'd do anything to show the world and the head doctor that Raye hadn't died of natural causes. But to do that, she'd have to live first.

And that was what he wanted her to do. Live.

So the doctor had chosen the second option. And now he looked at the once pure girl with her jet black eyes now filled with a hatred that made his old, jaded heart weep for her, and he listened to her as she rasped with a pain so apparent in her voice he wanted to let her die so that she'd be free from her suffering.

And before she had turned away and covered herself with the blankets and signaled for him to leave, she had rasped, her voice shaking with hatred and anger," I'll show you that Raye didn't die of a natural heart attack."

He didn't visit her until two more days had passed, and when he went into the room, he saw that Misora Naomi was sitting upright in her bed with her hair silky and combed neatly, not tied up, but still hanging with down over her shoulders with a luster that surprised him.

She looked up as he came in and smiled briefly, and he was surprised to see what a good mood she was in and asked carefully even though he already knew her answer, "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," she answered very readily, "I'm glad you saved me."

"Why?" he asked in response, although he also knew the answer to that,

And her smile died as her lips pressed together tightly and she closed her eyes and forced them shut. When she opened them again, they weren't filled with a mad fury any longer but they were calculating and cold, and beneath the ice, he saw hatred waiting to rear its ugly head at the people she couldn't hide it from.

Then she smiled again, and he was stuck by how sorrowful her smile was, and how heart-wrenchingly beautiful she was when she smiled like that.

"So I can help to kill KIRA for taking him away from me," she said clearly and very calmly the way she might have told him that she liked to eat ice-cream.

He had simply nodded even though his heart was pounding terribly, and he had said brightly, "That's the fighting spirit you ought to have."

He didn't try to tell her to be forgiving and let her fiancé's death be written off, he didn't try to stop her from getting out of bed gracefully and telling him that she had recovered enough, she was leaving the hospital now, and he didn't try to tell her to not live recklessly and not go hunting whoever who killed Raye Penber, all because they both knew it was useless.

And she packed the few things the hotel people had sent over and she left, and that was the last the head doctor ever saw of her. But she stood at the top of a building, watching as the traffic went by and the lights of the city blinded her, neon lights a stark contrast from the dark colours she was swathed in, and she let the wind blow her hair loose as there was a bitter taste in her mouth.

That day, the head doctor had walked into the cold room where all the FBI agents' bodies were, of course they were already patched up as a form of respect after the autopsies had been done on them, and he paused when he passed one body with its fair skin, dark hair and handsome face. Raye Penber.

And for the first time in many years, the head doctor felt unsure of himself.

"Did I do the right thing?" he asked Raye Penber quietly.

And of course, nobody could answer him.

* * *

Author's note:

The next chapter will be the final chapter.

R&R please!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer:

I don't own Death Note or the characters. R&R please.

Chapter 14

The next few days were a living hell for Misora Naomi. She combed the streets with no place to go, she hadn't called her parents and told them all that had happened, and nobody knew Raye Penber had died, not even them. She didn't bother trying to tell them he was dead either.

And she rented a small apartment somewhere around the estate with a single room with a tiny bed she'd curl up in at night and try not to cry at night when she thought of Raye. And she had nowhere left to go but she needed to sleep, no matter how much she denied herself that, she needed sleep. It was her only escape then.

And as time passed, the hatred for the person who had done this to both of them faded, but the determination to make him pay remained and the sorrow didn't fade like her hatred had, but grew more and more powerful until her face had the permanently melancholic look Raye had been able to replace with something very different.

But he wasn't here to do that anymore.

And in the next few days, she put together piece after piece after piece, until everything was in order and she was ready to speak. She never tied up her hair anymore, she left it hanging over her back but she combed it gently every night to keep it soft and limp the way he had loved to run his fingers through it, and she received a letter one day that made her ache for him inside.

She always knew that Raye Penber was an unpredictable person when he was cornered and desperate, but he had changed his will before they had left for Japan and arranged to have his house and everything he owned sold off to the highest bidder, and the money would go to her.

Misora Naomi hadn't expected him to do that, but the more she thought about it, the more it became clear to her. Raye had wanted her to forget about him and live on with her own life to run if he ever died, and so he had gotten rid of every trace of him, everything that he owned was gone and the money was all that was left.

In that way, he thought that she would never have anything to remember him by, and then she'd manage to forget him and be happy with somebody else.

"You fool," she whispered when she saw the will, "You fool."

Then that night, she hadn't tried to convince herself that Naomi Misora was a fighter and didn't need to cry, she had just let go and cried herself to sleep like she hadn't done for a long time.

Previously, she didn't know when, she had lost track of time after he had died, she had went to the bs station and tracked down the bus he hadbeneon during the hijacking incident.

It seemed as if her heart had been bleeding when she held out a photograph of both of them smiling, altbough she realised for the firsttime that he wasn't looking at the camera but as her, and then she asked the busdriver steadily even though she knew it was a pretence, "Do you know him?"

And the busdriver had replied that he did, and she wanted to recoil and shout in rage, "No you don't! Nobody knows Raye except me!", but she remembered what she was here for and heard him say through the mist, "I remembered because he shouted for the others to get down."

But to her immense vexation, he couldn't remember who else was on the bus, and she had to thank him as politely as she could and move on.

She did, because she wanted the truth and most of all, she wanted revenge.

And as she walked into the evening, she knew her hunch was that one of the other passengers could have been KIRA, which meant he would havelived along the bus route in the most probable situation.

In the morning, she knew she was finally ready, and she looked at a photograph of Raye and her smiling and said, almost addressing him even if he couldn't hear her anymore, "I can't forget you, and I'm not going to try either. Don't make me. And today, I will speak and I will help the police find the missing link I found too late. I shouldn't have listened to you when you told me to stay out of this, because if I did, you may not have died. And even now, even after you're gone, I'm still going to go for it."

Then she set down the photograph in its frame very carefully, combed her hair straight again and slipped on her favorite black shirt and jeans and her trusty black boots, well aware that she made a somber picture with her nearly all-black ensemble.

But she looked at herself in the mirror and thought it was befitting of her, and then she took her bag and set off to the police station.

As she walked there, the world around her busied along on its way, the children were laughing around her and playing, and the shops were opened for business and just for old time's sake, she bought a bag of apples, took half of them and left the rest on a park bench for someone to find and maybe take home.

She walked away and didn't look back, but if she did and could see death gods the way some could and known Riouk had allowed Yagami Light to kill Raye Penber, she would have been filled with a rage and hatred to see Riouk screeching in horrifying glee, "Lucky!" as he devoured everything that he found on the bench.

But she couldn't see death gods, and she didn't know anything then, so she just sighed and moved on her way.

Then she walked briskly to the police station and halted at the desk where two officers were.

"I need to speak to someone in the police force," she said in clipped tones, willing herself to be calm.

Instead, they just stupidly stared at her and she impatiently waited for a response until one of them said, "Sorry, we can't let you do that."

'But I need to speak to someone immediately!" she insisted, "It's urgent, and it's to do with the KIRA case!"

She watched looks of disbelief flit across their face and one of them spoke incredulously, "You don't' expect us to believe your right? Day in day out there are freaks everywhere claiming they know who KIRA is and how to contact him, all that nonsense, and you're expecting us to believe you?"

"But it's true," she said hastily, ignoring the youth who had came from behind and stood next to her lightly placing his hands on the desk, "I need to see someone now!"

"I'm looking for the Chief Inspector too," he said confidently, and she gazed at him, noting how handsome he was and what a decent chap he looked, "I need to see him now."

"Oh, Light!" one of them exclaimed, "Sorry, but your dad's not here right now, he's not around, but then neither is anyone."

And the other glared at her as if to say, "So there!"

"That's alright then," the youth with an unusual name said quickly, "I'll just wait for him to call."

Then he turned around and looked at her with open, honest eyes, and not for the first time, she thought of how good-looking he was, although she really couldn't care less about anything now.

"You need to find my father too, don't you?" he said courteously.

Although she would have liked to say no and b wary of him like she promised herself she would be after she had realised Raye hadn't been careful enough, she found herself nodding and saying, 'Yes, I need to see him desperately."

Then one of the officers might have protested and made her leave if Light hadn't turned to them and said innocently, his eyes bright and large, "Ah, but you can see from her eyes that she's a wise and prudent person."

Then he suggested that they take a walk around to kill the time while waiting for someone to get back, and he said that anyway, eh had his cell phone with him and his father could contact him anytime, and then if he called, he'd let her speak to his father.

So she found herself moving at a leisurely pace with the handsome youth, and he introduced himself as Yagami Light, and surprisingly enough, he told her that his name was written with the Chinese characters 'night,' then 'god' then 'light', almost as if he expected her to introduce herself in the same way as he did.

But she didn't, she was careful of names now, so she confidently told him her name, of course it was an alias she had been given a long time ago, and then he laughed, a cheerful boy, really, and then he asked her what her business there was.

She figured it really wouldn't hurt to tell him although she was a little wary, because from what her deductions was, she was quite safe as long as she didn't reveal her name, and then he seemed like such a nice boy that she didn't mind revealing a little, after all he was the inspector's son, and he reminded her terribly of someone she couldn't quite remember yet.

It had been so long since she could find someone who she could talk to and confide in after Raye had died, and it was startling how comfortable Yagami Light made her feel although she maintained a barrier around herself that he could not break. Nobody but Raye would be allowed to break into that barrier; she'd made sure of that after he had died because he didn't want to be hurt anymore.

And as they walked while she prayed that someone would get back to the station soon, she confided in Yagami Light and watched his reactions very carefully, but there was nothing suspicious about the way he talked and worked, in fact, he only recorded down some things she said, and those were harmless in themselves.

He even asked her in a concerned voice, what she would do now since her fiancé had died, and for the first time, she was stumped. She hadn't even asked herself what would be next.

"I planned to go back to America to get married, "she faltered, "But now, I-I," and she didn't know how to continue.

"But you're still young and beautiful!" he cried indignantly, and her eyes shot up to meet his, and unwittingly, hers widened. The only person who had told her that before was Raye, and she fund herself remembering the way he laughed and smiled every time he saw her, and she wanted to run away and hide so she could cry.

"What made you think your fiancé didn't die of natural causes?" he asked curiously as they walked past some trees that had shed their leaves already. How she missed seeing Raye pick up the orange crackling leaves and throw them everywhere like a child.

"He couldn't have logically," she answered coldly, 'And I know he must have met KIRA the day he died."

"How did you arrive to that conclusion,' Yagami Light asked, genuinely surprised, she could tell from the way his eyes were widening and gleaming.

"The day he died," she began, then she felt an intense pain shoot through every fiber she possessed and had to breath a little to continue, "he told me before that he was forced to show his name to the person he was trailing. And then he had died the next day. Isn't it too coincidental that being force to reveal your name makes you immediately in danger? If KIRA hadn't needed a name to kill, then he would be alive right now."

She watched as Yagami Light paused and turned to her in amazement, his eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise, then he smiled charmingly and said whole-heartedly, "I'm impressed, you came to that conclusion so quickly!"

He was checking his watch then and she saw that it was exactly 1.15, and his eyes were a little startled, but then he turned back to her with something like suspicion on his handsome face, and she had to double check because a second later, it was clear from any expression at all.

Strange kid, she thought, and then something like a warning bell tingled in her, and she made up her mind there and then.

"Maybe I should go back to the police station, perhaps someone's came back,' she said weakly, and then she turned to walk back while Yagami Light stood behind her, and he didn't call after her, so she hurried on.

He was reaching into his pocket as if to check whether his phone was ringing, but it didn't matter, she'd get back and maybe someone was there.

Then she remembered she had to be polite and she turned to face him, and then she said lightly, more lightly than she felt like saying actually, "Thank you for confirming my suspicions, now I have more encouragement and more confidence in my conclusions."

And she would have left, feeling better that she had talked to someone who believed in her the way Raye hadn't when she had told him of her suspicions, why, oh why hadn't she persisted that day?

But Yagami Light caught up with her and ran in front of her, effectively blocking her way although she was sure that was unconscious and not on purpose.

"There are more victims like your fiancé, and there's nobody at the headquarters," he said urgently with a plea in his eyes.

She paused and looked at him, and suddenly the warning bells were ringing everywhere, "What do you mean?"

"You can't contact them, because we're using an unknown policy," he said hastily to explain himself, and she looked at how he was confidently answering her questions without stammering, so perhaps he wasn't lying, but then to know so much, he was suspicious himself.

"How do you know that?" she countered, staring at him. He was hiding something, she instinctively knew that, but she didn't know that it was and she was determined to find out, and the way he was churning out answer after answer but only to handle each question she threw at him was suspicious.

"I'm a member of the KIRA investigation team" he said apologetically, his eyes still bright and trusting, "I was invited to join since I helped on two cases and allowed the police to successfully crack them in the past, and besides, I don't think they have many options now either. L's disturbed by the lack of progress since many quit after they were afraid of what could happen to them."

"Alright then" she said, and the she proceeded to make her way to the station, but he was shocked, obviously he was that she was leaving, and he quickly caught up to her again and she told him, "I was an FBI agent until 3 months ago, I've worked for L before, and maybe he will see me and I can tell him what I know, If it's L, he'll see me."

"So that's why you were so professional in KIRA's investigations,' he said quickly, his eyes widening with just the right amount of admiration.

She ignored the praise he was hinting at her, and continued quickly because she really wanted to shake him off her and get back, cutting in swiftly, 'I suspect it's someone form the police, but if it's L then I know that he will solve the case."

She saw him grimace just a little bit, perhaps he didn't have as much trust in L as her, but she didn't have thee time to explain anything to Yagami Light, she knew the sooner she got back, the better, the better- what?

Strange, she didn't know what she was running from; maybe it was just her instincts telling her wrong things.

"I understand what you mean," he reassured her quickly, perhaps noticing that she had seen him look a little offset when she had declared her trust in L.

'What are you thinking, Naomi?' she thought to herself, 'are you actually suspecting this boy here of being a suspicious character? Why, he's almost like-," then she remembered who he had reminded of, L.

He was bright and very intelligent, she was sure he was a very gifted student, perhaps his wits were better than either hers or Raye's and at L's level, and that made her pause and admit briefly, "I couldn't see the name of the people on the investigation team, and since Light happens to be the Chief Inspector's son….not really, the reason is because you remind me of L very much.'

She thought she saw his lips quirk into something like a smirk, but it became a smile and he turned around better to face her and said thoughtfully with an inviting note in his melodious voice, "Why don't you work together with us, since you are more qualified as you were once in the FBI?"

Naomi looked at him, feeling suddenly more excited than she had ever been after Raye had left and said, trying not to tremble with excitement, "I can?"

"Yes," he said, seemingly as excited as her as he eagerly continued, "Conditions are already secure, with valid identification and recommendation from an existing team member, you can join."

She would have cheered then because she was one step closer to avenging Raye's death and paying back KIRA for what he had done to Raye and her, but then she instantly remembered something and blushed a little, feeling embarrassed.

When she spoke again, there was a queer sort of anticipation in Yagami Light's eyes, as if he was waiting hungrily to pounce on something she was about to give, but maybe it was a trick of the light, it was gone very quickly and replaced with anticipation of another kind, more like he was waiting for her to agree to his invitation.

Well, she would, she'd give whatever information she had to the police and they'd kill KIRA for Raye and for her.

"Um, I gave you a fake name just now, my real name's Misora Naomi."

His eyes widened in surprise, he was clearly surprised that she had been so sneaky about it, but then when she fumbled in her bag for her ID and passed it to him, he took it carefully and wrote down her name into his book which he had used to jot down what she had been saying.

Such a careful boy, she thought, I bet the others at school are always trying to steal his notes so that they can study as well as him.

A man with a ridiculous afro passed them on the way back to the headquarters, and he opened up his umbrella but didn't notice either one of them.

She wouldn't have either except that he had an afro so he was quite recognizable with his curly, voluminous mop of hair.

And as she passed her card to him and he touched the card, the first snow of that year began to fall.

Snow, Raye had told her once that he always loved it. She had hated it because it always made her cold, but then he had pulled her to him and enveloped her in his warmth and told her snow was pure and was a signal that spring would come soon, so she had begun to love the snow after that.

But now he was gone, the snow was as good as nothing to her. She had nothing left.

Naomi Misora would have been lost in her thoughts if Yagami Light hadn't pulled his sleeve up a little and checked his watch, his eyes suddenly filled with a terrible gleam that unsettled her because she recognized the light as a hunter watching his prey.

"Why are you looking at your watch?" she asked nervously.

He didn't answer immediately although his eyes darted up from the watch's face to hers, and she suddenly was struck with fear at how awful the gloating expression he had fixed onto her was.

And then his perfect lips parted as he smiled almost gently and she thought of Raye's smile again but heard him say in a voice filled with hateful triumph, "Because I am KIRA."

"Raye!" she wanted to call out in horror, and maybe she'd feel his strong arms wrap around her and protect her again from all her nightmares and the monstrosity she had pretended to hide things from, but Yagami Light had been pretending too and she'd been fooled, but then she thought she heard a clock chime nearby and she felt herself drifting away, further and further.

Her teacher was asking her what she wanted to be, but she was shaking her head and saying in a lost voice while her classmates stared at her in surprise, because she never said the words, "I don't know" before.

Snow was falling like little lost dreams over the world, and she wanted to cry again for Raye, but her hands were cold and lifeless. And she knew her mind was becoming blank.

Raye was asking her if she'd marry him at the dinner table. And she was shaking her head and saying, "I might kill you if you get too close, and after you die, I might die."

And the world was slowing down and her eyes were tired, so she closed them to blink, but something forced her to open her eyes and she could feel that they were blank, she was like a vessel of nothing now.

And through a daze, she heard Yagami Light ask her cheerfully, damn him for all eternity, "Do you have anything to tell anyone?"

"No," she murmured emotionlessly as her feet carried her away from him. She wanted to turn back and scream but her head was fixed at a building she didn't recognize, far far away.

"Don't you have anywhere you'd like to go?" he asked innocently. That insolent monster, but what was he asking her again? She didn't know, she had to go to that building. Why? She didn't know either, but she had to go now…

"No, I'm just going to," and she trailed off and closed her eyes again, suddenly very tired and trying to remember what it had felt like for Raye to take her in his arms and tell her that he loved her.

And the snow was falling.

Something in her was screaming for her to turn back and run to the police station, and her hands twitched violently but her arms, they were heavy now, maybe she'd just go to sleep so that she wouldn't feel so tired then, and maybe she'd go and rest her head on a pillow and prepare dinner so when Raye came home, they'd eat together and maybe they'd discuss what they could do after they went back to America, and he wanted children and what else did he want, she couldn't remember what he had said and then…

And Naomi Misora felt her body being controlled by forces she couldn't recognize or identify either, and her mind was losing interest in anything around her as she turned and walked away from him very dazedly and he gloated behind her and said softly, but loud enough for something left in her to hear him say, "Goodbye."

Raye will make him pay, she promised herself, suddenly clear from the daze, he'll wipe that smile off that monster's face, and then he'll take me away and I won't have to pretend anymore that I'm strong and I can do anything I want. "But Raye, where are you?' she asked herself silently, then she suddenly remembered that he was dead, and now, because she had tried to avenge his death, she was going to die.

But she didn't mind dying for Raye, but she was filled with sorrow that nobody would hear what she had to say.

And she was transported back into the classroom again, but everything was blur now, where they were all standing up and saying things and telling everyone else what they wanted to do when they grew up, and each student took their turns, but it was never hers, and she waited patiently and patiently but it never was her turn to speak.

Then her feet were carrying her away, and something in her wasn't fighting anymore against anything but softly calling out to someone and reaching out for arms that were strong and would protect her, and then she wouldn't have to fight anymore for his memory and for her life. But she had fought while she could, and she had fought well. But it wasn't enough.

Naomi Misora didn't know that Raye's love for her had led her to his death, and she didn't realize at any point that his death had made her go to hers.

The world was being covered with snow from where she was now.

She was suddenly climbing up stairs she had never climbed before, but she was slowly moving up there very steadily, her hand woodenly placed on the metal railings, and her eyes were blank and dull, her hair lustrous and loose, sweeping in the wind. Just the way Raye liked it. Or did he? Did he say that? Or was it a figment of her imagination? And she couldn't think anymore, she was too tired and weary.

And she was standing on the ledge of the rooftop, feeling the wind blow across her face but not quite registering the feeling nor understanding that it was the wind blowing against her, and inside, she wept as something gave way below her and she was suddenly falling, falling, but nothing was catching her and keeping her safe in his arms.

So she fell and then she knew she was falling into darkness where she prayed that she'd find Raye amidst the darkness waiting for her, and then she could tell him that she had tried her best, but it wasn't enough, but she'd be with him forever then.

And if he was still the Raye she loved more than anything else, he'd take her into his arms and kiss her and say it was fine, she was really something, he hadn't been wrong to love her.

Yagami Light knew that the death note could control the actions of people before they died, but he didn't know that Naomi Misora who he had used the death note to control too, had one burning desire that made her whisper something that he hadn't meant for her to whisper when he had jotted down her name, imagined her face, and led her to commit suicide.

So nobody in the world saw her whisper something before she faded into darkness as blood streamed everywhere on the ground and she fell woodenly like a broken doll. Nobody heard her at all, and nobody saw a girl dressed in black falling backwards in a graceful arc with her hands reaching out to something she wanted to hold again and keep with her for all eternity. If they had, they would have known that the last thing she tried to hold onto was only a fistful of air.

So nobody heard Naomi Misora smile contentedly and briefly before she hit the ground with a sickening sound, her blank eyes releasing tears that were drawn upwards to the place she had been standing at before she fell, and then she closed her eyes and whispered something brokenly just before she hit the ground.

And this was what the last person who might have testified and fought so desperately for love whispered.

"I'm coming for you Raye."

* * *

Author's final notes:

Big thanks to those who have reviewed. I knew that the two weren't a popular couple from the start but something about Misora Naomi made me feel attached to her, and I did this as a result. Of course I was disappointed that the reviews weren't as many as every writer dreams them to be, but to those who read and reviewed, thank you so much. I really appreciate it.


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